


It All Started in a Bank

by lazybum89



Series: It All Started in a Bank [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Harry Potter/Sherlock BBC Crossover, I will add more tags as I go along and they apply, Original Character(s), don't have major parts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:31:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 75,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazybum89/pseuds/lazybum89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dursleys, Harry, Sherlock, John and Detective Inspector Lestrade all walk into a bank. What happens? Nothing good obviously… So what happens after they leave the bank after something tragic happens?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter or Sherlock… they belong to their respective owners of which I am not… Although if I was that would be pretty awesome... not gonna lie.
> 
> Background: The Harry Potter time line has been pushed up to the Sherlock time line so this story is obviously going to be AU for both series although I will try to keep certain aspects cannon from both although what is yet to be seen. This story takes place some time between 'The Blind Banker' and 'The Great Game' in the Sherlock series and is pre-series for Harry Potter as Harry is only five.
> 
> A/N: Please remember I am American and while I can look up certain things to try to make it sound British it will never be so I beg your forgiveness and to please ignore anything too American or feel free to point it out to me, politely, and to tell me the correct way it should be so I can correct it. :)
> 
> **All names that appear in this story that you don't recognize, by the way, are made up by me and are not based on anyone so they are my original characters for this story as they are needed and they needed names so there you have it...**
> 
> P.S.: Also all mistakes are my own and this is not beta'd so feel free to point out mistakes too so I can fix them! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 6/2/2013: This chapter has been edited and is a prologue now instead of chapter 1.

Prologue

Future excerpt from John's Blog

Time – Unknown

 _I've put off telling this story for a long time. Mostly because it was about my private day to day life with Sherlock and the extraordinary person we decided to adopt into our strange little family, and no that does not mean this is confirmation to our supposed couple status, really how that rumor got started I'll never know, raise him into his adulthood and the extraordinary journey we've all been on, but finally,_ finally, _I've decided to tell the story to you all as I sit here staring at the computer reminiscing about the past as we older folks have a tendency to do._

_Oh, I can remember the laughter during these years along with the heartache, oh was there heartache and many tears shed. Not to mentioned frustrating moments, as anyone who has ever met Sherlock would agree with, but not only from him. There was also a period of terror during these years that I don't think I will ever truly recover from and not to mention the biggest heartache of all, that any parent would agree with. But I can't forget to mention all the joy I've had and the happiness that comes along with being a parent, that I wouldn't trade for anything._

_I've also debated with myself on the numerous ways on how to start this. Should I start this with our terrifying encounters with Moriarty? And make no doubt about it… they were terrifying for all involved, not to mention heartbreaking. Should I start it with any random day at the flat? Or perhaps a memorable one at the flat (and there are more than you could possibly imagine)? How about when the person we adopted into our family finally went away to his spectacular boarding school?_

_After careful consideration, I decided that the only logical place to start would be, of course, at the beginning, when we met and go from there. How did we meet you may be asking yourself? Well, it all started in a bank…_


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 6/2/2013: This chapter has been edited. I have combined the previous chapters 1 and chapter 2 and made them into one chapter - now chapter 1.

Chapter 1

"Let's go, Potter, we need to leave and Mrs. Figg is too busy to watch you so you have to come with us," said a woman's shrill voice.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," said the small, quiet voice of five-year-old Harry Potter.

"Well, hurry up then, boy, or we will leave you here no matter what the law says," said his uncle, standing by the door, sounding impatient. "We're in a hurry and we have to stop at the bank first. Keep your freakishness to yourself while we're out."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," replied Harry, hurrying and getting his shoes on while dodging the feet of his five-year-old cousin, Dudley, who was laughing at him as he dodged.

"Let's go," said Uncle Vernon, walking out of the house and going to the car with Dudley, Harry, who had managed to put his shoes on in time, and Aunt Petunia, being the last one out to lock the house door, following him.

Everyone got in the car and settled in their seats as Vernon started the car up and drove off to their bank.

"Can I have a lolly when we go to the bank, Mummy?" asked Dudley, looking like he was already imagining the sweetness on his tongue.

"I wasn't planning on bringing you in the bank with me, Duddy," said Aunt Petunia. Harry thought she was talking to his cousin carefully like she did when she had to tell him that they didn't have any more bacon.

Dudley's obvious short-lived fascination with his imagined lolly came to a screeching halt with that. "WHAT? WHY? I WANT A LOLLY! I always get lollies when we go to the bank! I WANT A LOLLY!" He said that very loudly.

Aunt Petunia exchanged a quick look with Uncle Vernon and they had a very quick and silent argument with their eyes before they both sighed.

"Yes, Dudley, you can have a lolly when we get to the bank. We will all have to go in… And you better behave, boy, and keep your freakishness in check. Understand?" said Uncle Vernon. He started out talking fine but when he addressed Harry, his tone got more threatening.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," said Harry, looking down at his trousers and picking absentmindedly at a hole in the pocket, listening to Dudley let out a laugh and slight cheer at getting his way, wondering all the while what freakishness his uncle was always talking about and how he could control it to get them to like him more.

Harry let out a dejected sigh at that thought and continued to pick at the hole in his trousers for the remainder of the ride to the bank while ignoring his cousin's antics of trying to poke and pinch him.

After what felt like forever to Harry, they arrived outside a big building, big to a five-year-old anyway, and Uncle Vernon parked his car in the car park.

"All right, let's go and I'll try to make this quick," said Aunt Petunia, directing the last part to Vernon who had graciously agreed to come with her on his day off of work. She is the one who needed the money, after all, to go shopping for some groceries and she just didn't like those Chip and PIN machines and preferred to deal with cash… you just never knew who was trying to steal your information and hard earned money.

Everyone got out of the car, Uncle Vernon took Dudley's hand and Aunt Petunia, reluctantly, took Harry's, and they headed inside the bank.

For it being a Thursday morning, Harry knew his days of the week, the bank was pretty busy, at least Harry thought so though his five-year-old self had nothing to compare it to, and they had a queue of people, probably about five or six, Harry wasn't quite sure exactly.

Aunt Petunia, Harry, Uncle Vernon and Dudley got in line behind three men, two of whom seemed to be arguing about something; the one man seemed to be exasperated with the other who had a stubborn look on his face while the third man just watched or so it seemed. Harry didn't listen… eavesdropping was never a good idea and he didn't want to get in trouble so he looked down at his trainers as Aunt Petunia let out a sigh, she disliked people fighting in public, thought that should happen behind closed doors, whatever that meant.

And that is when all hell broke loose.

* * *

"Come on, Sherlock!" said a graying haired man.

"I won't do it, Lestrade," Sherlock stubbornly refused.

"And why not?" asked Detective Inspector Lestrade, sounding frustrated with the man already. They have, after all, been going at this for ten minutes.

"Boring and I've got better things to do," said Sherlock simply.

"And on that note, I've got to go to the bank," said John, setting down his tea, expecting to be ignored, like he has been for the past ten minutes, not that he minded, this was, after all, amusing, all things considered.

"I'll come with you," said Sherlock, standing up.

"What?" said John and Lestrade together, confused and incredulous, respectively.

"I hate repeating myself," said Sherlock, crossing his arms.

"Let me get this straight," said Lestrade, "You won't come with me to a crime scene but you will go to a bank?"

"Yes," said Sherlock, heading down the stairs of his shared flat with John and towards the door with Lestrade and John following him.

"Taxi!" said Sherlock as he steps out onto the sidewalk, trying to get a taxi to stop to take him and John to the bank.

"I'm not done yet, Sherlock," said Lestrade, grumpily.

John watched them in amusement, though he had the fleeting thought that he should step in sometime soon before Lestrade shot Sherlock out of sheer frustration.

"Come with us then because we are going to the bank," said Sherlock as if Lestrade should have known that was his only option left.

Lestrade looked at John and John just nodded his head that it was fine with him. He was just depositing a check so that his Chip and PIN card would actually _work_ , hopefully.

A taxi pulled up to them and they all got in which put a halt to Lestrade's and Sherlock's argument for the moment while they talked about other things while in the taxi.

Fifteen minutes later, they were at the bank and as soon as they step out of the taxi, and John does mean the exact moment that the door to the taxi was shut, Lestrade and Sherlock started arguing again and they continued as they walked into the bank and stood in the queue waiting for John's turn.

A family of four walked into the bank a minute after they did and as they came to stop behind them, John heard a sigh from a woman, probably because she didn't approve of his companions arguing in public… some people were like that, he supposed.

John was just about to open his mouth to tell Sherlock and Lestrade to cool it while they were in the bank when all hell broke loose.

"EVERYONE ON THE GROUND! NOW!" shouted several masked people as they shot their weapons into the ceiling.

"Well, this is unexpected," John heard Sherlock whisper to himself as he got down on the ground.

_'Indeed,'_ thought John.

* * *

_'I'm going to be in so much trouble,'_ thought Harry as he dropped to the ground on his knees with Aunt Petunia who, instinctively moved so she was closer to Uncle Vernon and Dudley so she could protect Dudley, who had let out a loud gasp of fright, and be protected by Uncle Vernon, leaving a slight gap between him and them. Harry thought he saw the three men look his way with slightly narrowed eyes but he didn't know why they were looking his way. He was no one important so he figured they must be looking at the masked people.

"EVERYONE'S EYES ON THE FLOOR! AND DON'T MOVE!" came another shout from the masked people… Harry thought he counted four of them but they were moving too quickly for his five-year-old self to count. He, however, instantly obeyed the command, no need to draw further attention to himself. He learned that from experience when dealing with Dudley and his cronies when they came for play dates to the house or the playground, when he was allowed to go, that that only gets you in even more trouble.

"If everyone listens, then we will be out of your hair in a jiffy," said one of the armed bad guys, because really what else could they be if they weren't bad guys? Good guys didn't shoot guns into the ceiling, did they?

Harry thought he heard two of the three men beside him groan and one let out a noise. Didn't they know they weren't supposed to draw attention to themselves?

"QUIET OVER THERE!" said one of the armed bad guys. Harry wondered where the other bad guys went and what they wanted. His knees were starting to hurt. He really should have sat down on his butt. The bad guys didn't say to get on your knees but it's probably too late to do anything about it now.

"Boring," came the muttered replied from one of the men from beside him followed by twin groans from his friends. Harry's eyes opened wide behind his glasses. That's not listening…

"I SAID QUIET!" said the bad guy and Harry could see shoes in front of him now. He started to panic slightly. He hadn't said anything. He hadn't even made a peep. Why was the bad guy in front of him?

"Who talked?" asked the bad guy in a dangerous voice.

_'Somehow,'_ thought Harry, very nervously, _'that was more scary than when he was yelling.'_

"Obviously not the kid," said the same man who had said, "boring." Harry saw the shoes move slightly to his right - he thought it was his right anyways… he was too afraid to do the quick "L" trick with his fingers to make sure. He heard two more groans this time and probably so did everyone else in the bank as they waited anxiously to see what the bad guy would do to the first man who dared not listen to him.

* * *

Sherlock had got down on the ground between John and Lestrade and they all looked to their left quickly when they heard one of the children behind them let out a gasp of fright but what they saw caused them all to narrow their eyes, even Sherlock. They didn't need Sherlock's deductive reasoning to work out that something fishy was going on with that family, judging by the obvious gap between the two adults and one child and the other dark-haired child, who was closer to them, perfect strangers.

"Bastards," whispered John and Lestrade under their breaths, unheard by the four gunmen who were walking very determinedly past them and up to where the tellers were. Sherlock wasn't sure if John and Lestrade were talking about the family behind them or the gunmen.

Sherlock's eyes followed the progression of the gunmen and he saw one of the female tellers hit the silent alarm before she came around from behind the counter with her other tellers and got on the ground. That silent alarm was either going to help them all or harm them all and he was going to reserve final judgment until he knew which, though he could hazard a guess at which right now.

Sherlock saw three of the gunmen point their weapons at two of the three tellers and then two of them pulled the tellers to their feet and pulled them in the direction of the vault.

_'What a waste of time to have them get on the floor just to get them up in two point two seconds,'_ thought Sherlock rolling his eyes.

"EVERYONE'S EYES ON THE FLOOR! AND DON'T MOVE!" came another shout from the masked gunmen as three of them led the tellers to the vault and one stayed behind.

_'How dull,'_ thought Sherlock. _'These bank robbers cannot even come up with something original or add a threat at the end of their statements, just expecting compliance. If only I can get that kind of reaction when I go to a crime scene...'_

He, nonetheless, complied with the ridiculous command. Sherlock could practically hear the relief from John and Lestrade at him being compliant right now especially since they were. Obviously, they were thinking along the lines that money was replaceable, lives weren't, and he agreed if they were comparing lives to money and not a good mystery and/or crime.

"If everyone listens, then we will be out of your hair in a jiffy," continued the gunman who was left behind to watch everyone that was left out front, which included three other customers, not counting the family beside him or behind him, he cannot really be worried about small details such as this right now, the teller who had pushed the alarm, not sure if she is an idiot or not yet, and the bank manager, definite idiot as he didn't even hire a guard but these bank robbers must be even more idiotic if they did not even take the bank manager with them into the vault as he probably has more access than the two tellers.

John and Lestrade let out a groan at what the gunman just said and he could practically _feel_ them glance his way. He let out an indignant sound. How insulting to think he would be the cause of everyone's problems. After all, _he's_ not the one robbing the bank right now. If he were to rob a bank, he would do it in a much smarter way than this! Honestly, how plebeian to walk in, waving guns around and then taking tellers into the vault. Dull!

"QUIET OVER THERE!" said the gunman. He sounded annoyed.

_'Honestly this gunman cannot even threaten properly! Of course, he's just following orders, trying to be tough judging from his stance and the way his eyes keep glancing back towards the vault. He cannot even keep a proper eye on us,'_ thought Sherlock and before he could help himself he said out loud, "Boring."

For some reason, this caused John and Lestrade to groan again, though Sherlock couldn't see why. He was just being honest. This whole scenario was boring though it had started out kind of interesting, now it was just plain dull. He had left the flat to get away from being bored and nagging Detective Inspectors. It obviously hasn't happened though.

"I SAID QUIET!" said the gunman and he started to walk over and stood in front of the dark-haired kid that came with the family but was not currently being smothered by the woman who looked like a horse, though she did tense, interesting, though that could be from the presence of a gun, normal and boring people didn't like them, and the man who looked like he should talk to Mycroft about a diet. The kid that was being smothered between the two of them actually looked like he should talk to Mycroft about a diet as well, now that he thought about it.

"Who talked?" asked the gunman in a dangerous voice.

_'Does he really think that is threatening?'_ thought Sherlock, _'Mummy can do better than that when she is irritated with both Mycroft and myself and oh, I just cannot help myself...'_

"Obviously not the kid," said Sherlock which caused John and Lestrade to groan yet again.

_'Honestly, were they coming down with something? If they were, they shouldn't breathe on me,'_ thought Sherlock, irritably, _'I cannot afford to get sick, of all things, right now_.'

There were other groans too but Sherlock paid them no attention. Now, this bank robbery in progress was finally getting a little bit exciting.

 


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 6/2/2013: This chapter has been edited and is now chapter 2. Nothing major has changed, just has a new chapter number.

Chapter 2

Sherlock grinned to himself when he saw out of the periphery of his vision the bank robber move his way. Nothing gets the blood pumping like a dangerous situation.

"Look at me," said the bank robber in what he thought was a dangerous voice. Sherlock could feel the gun pointed at him.

"Isn't that a bit contradictory for the rest of the people in the bank, though. If you make one exception for me, you'll have to make it for the others," said Sherlock as if he were only pointing out that one plus one equals two. He didn't look up though. He did things on his own time like when he glanced up quickly and made his observations about how well the bank robber was watching them, which was poorly, and not the one in charge.

The bank robber shot a round into the floor just in front of Sherlock's right knee. Someone screamed and Sherlock heard one of the children let out a cry of fright, probably the one who needs to go on a diet with Mycroft, and the other child lets out a startled gasp, judging by the pitch of the voice. He was sure the others in the bank had jumped as well because he had felt both John and Lestrade twitch minutely as the bank robber fired and being who they were, it was only logical to assume that the rest of the people in the bank jumped as well and probably much more noticeably.

Sherlock still didn't look up though that was a bit more impressive than just yelling at them to shut up and sit down in a loud voice.

"Do you want to try again?" asked the bank robber.

Still looking at the ground, Sherlock asked, completely ignoring the question, "Why do people always assume that shooting the ground or ceiling makes you somehow tougher and make people more compliant to do what you want them to?"

"Because it usually does," said John and Lestrade together, before the bank robber could as if he should know that and sounding incredulous, though they really shouldn't have been.

"Quiet," the bank robber growled at John and Lestrade.

"Now that's hardly fair. You can hardly expect to be talking to me and having me answer you back without expecting others to want to talk as well. It's just not logical," said Sherlock, speaking to the floor and shaking his head as if disappointed with the bank robber for not thinking.

"You shut up too. If you recall, I told you to look up at me," said the bank robber angrily sounding as if he was going to pull the trigger of his gun again and hit something other than the floor, "and if you don't do it in the next two seconds, one of your mates will be getting hurt. Probably the one in the jumper, it offends me."

Sherlock looked up at that as John frowned, still looking at the ground; there was nothing wrong with his jumper.

"His jumper _offends_ you?" asked Sherlock, sounding incredulous, acting as if he were only looking up at the ridiculousness of the statement and not that he was actually worried about John being shot or hurt… wouldn't do for his reputation in front of witnesses who could hold it against him.

The bank robber shrugged and was about to open his mouth to reply when his three fellow bank robbers came back out of the vault, carrying satchels presumably filled with money, pushing the two tellers and shoving them on the floor in front of the counter.

"Just shut up and look at the ground. No more talking, understand?" said the bank robber and he shoved Sherlock's head down into his chest for good measures.

Sherlock still mumbled to himself, but it was loud enough to be heard by the bank robber, John and Lestrade, "What's the point in asking a question like that if you don't want an answer?"

John and Lestrade barely managed to suppress their groans in time as the bank robber choose to ignore what Sherlock said as his fellow bank robbers walked up to him.

"Everything okay?" asked one of the bank robbers. "We heard a shot."

"Yeah," was the reply. He didn't explain further and his companions didn't ask him to.

"Let's go," said another bank robber.

"Thank you all for your cooperation. Nobody try to follow us out or you'll be hurt in a bad way!" said the final bank robber. You could practically hear the grin and excitement in his voice.

After that final pronouncement, the bank robbers all headed towards the exit and left out one of the doors to get to the lobby part of the bank.

When everyone heard the door shut to the main part of the bank, nobody moved from their positions that they were in for a moment before Sherlock looked up, cautiously, he liked breathing after all, and saw that the bank robbers were headed towards one of the other doors to leave the building completely.

"They're leaving," he said to the room at large and slowly started to stand up.

Lestrade quickly looked up, turned to the three tellers, while still on his knees, and asked, "Did one of you hit the silent alarms?"

The only female teller nodded her head that she had while the rather obese man who was beside them asked, rather angrily, "Why the bloody hell does that matter?"

Sherlock saw that everyone was slowly standing up at this point and the dark-haired boy swallowed and looked nervous and Sherlock could tell it wasn't from the bank robbery that had just taken place. His eyes kept shifting towards his so-called family and the two adults kept giving him a look that promised retribution for this bank robbery as if it were his fault. But they couldn't possibly blame this on a five-year-old child?

"Because," Sherlock said looking away from the family as a gunshot and police sirens were heard outside. He estimated they had about one minute forty-four seconds tops before things came to a head, "That means this probably isn't over yet. I hope Anderson doesn't do negations. He is a right idiot."

"Don't be ridiculous… He's Forensics," said John, sounding offhanded, while taking a quick look around the bank.

"What about Donovan?" asked Sherlock, sounding pain.

"She's at the crime scene with Anderson," said Lestrade, "where we," he gestured between himself, Sherlock and John, "are supposed to be."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and said, "This was much more exciting and is going to become much more exciting than just a plain bank robbery." His thoughts on the family's strange behavior being replaced by the upcoming hostage situation as there was no way for any of them to leave. The only way out was blocked by the bank robbers and gunfire.

"I never thought I would see the day," said Lestrade to himself.

Everyone was watching their conversation in confusion, except John, who nodded his head slightly in agreement.

"What do you mean?" asked the small voice of the dark haired boy who had been unceremoniously abandoned by his guardians when the bank robbers stormed the bank.

"Don't talk them, frea-, boy," said the obese man.

"Come here," said the woman and she gestured to the general area around her, her husband and son and then she pinched her lips together.

The boy moved closer to them but he stayed at least an arm's length away from the man.

Everyone in the bank frowned at the slip of the man's tongue, Sherlock, in particular, had a curious look on his face, his thoughts going right back to their behavior and replacing the upcoming hostage situation. Everyone knew that the man was about to say "freak" in regards to the boy and it didn't sit well with any of them along with what seemed like an unconscious gesture on the boy's part to stay out of the man's reach.

"No, that's a good question," said the bank manager, throwing a look at the man. "What do you mean and are you with Scotland Yard?" He sounded angry at the last part like he couldn't believe they hadn't tried to stop the bank robbery.

"I am, they're not," said Lestrade gesturing to John and Sherlock and that is as far as he got in his explanation before the door to the bank burst open again. The bank robbers were back and they looked mad, even through their masks.

"We're about to become hostages," said Sherlock simply as the robbers and now hostage takers pointed their guns at them again. He just knew that silent alarm was going to harm them more than help them.

* * *

Mycroft was sitting in his office enjoying a cup of tea, reading reports from his operatives and having a nice, relaxing day as his brother hasn't caused him any major problems today, unlike all week… He did not want to think in detail about all the problems Sherlock had caused him but sufficed to say, he will no longer be looking at taxis, coat hangers, chewing gum and toenails the same way again. Sherlock can get into quite the bit of trouble when bored and Doctor Watson had to work an extra shift at the surgery.

Mycroft's reading and musings were interrupted by a loud knock on his office door.

"Enter," he said, sounding distracted.

"Sir," said his assistant, who he was pretty sure was still going by 'Anthea' these days as she was fond of the name, "There is a situation developing at a bank. It is believed to be a bank robbery turned hostage situation."

"Why are you telling me this and not letting Scotland Yard know?" asked Mycroft with slight confusion but also dawning comprehension before Anthea even began to speak again. He shook his head. Not even one day…

"Scotland Yard is already on scene and I'm telling you because this bank is the last known whereabouts of Sherlock Holmes, Doctor John Watson and Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade," said Anthea, looking at her Blackberry to confirm the details that were no doubt emailed to her.

Mycroft closed his eyes, as if praying for patience and hoping, for once, that his brother and his friends managed to slip their surveillance especially knowing the statistics on hostage negotiations and survival rates, and asked, "Is it confirmed that they are in there?" He didn't open his eyes yet.

It took Anthea a moment to answer, in which time Mycroft still didn't open his eyes, before she said, "Yes, sir."

Mycroft took a deep breath, opened his eyes and said, "Right then, I had better make some phone calls… Wait here for further instructions," and then he said to himself, "I would hate to have to explain this to Mummy."

Mycroft picked up the phone and started dialing as Anthea stood there, pretending she didn't hear that last statement, fingers hovering over her Blackberry, waiting for her instructions on what to do next.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 6/2/2013: This chapter has been edited and is now chapter 3. Nothing major has changed, just has a new chapter number.

Chapter 3

_**Twenty-four hours later…** _

The scene at the bank was a mess thought Mycroft as he observed from the back of his limousine. His brother really knows how to get himself into some really serious situations, though he really cannot blame this one on Sherlock this time. All he had done was go into a bank. Mycroft hasn't had a chance to go over the security camera with a fine tooth comb yet though.

And where was his brother anyway? Everyone should be out of the bank by now, whether they are walking or in body bags. He glanced in the direction of the ambulance… those unfortunate, surviving family members.

Mycroft let out a sigh. His brother knows he hates showing his face when there are news cameras around, but this situation really worried him and Mummy and they both would not rest until Mycroft could ascertain whether or not Sherlock was all right or not.

He let out another sigh after two minutes of silent contemplation. There was nothing else for it. He was going to have to get out of the limousine and… talk… to the one in charge of the fiasco and find out what was holding up his brother inside the bank. Bloody younger siblings and the things older siblings do for them.

Mycroft opened the door, stepped out of the limousine with his umbrella, you never knew when it was going to rain in London and better be prepared Mummy always said, and shut the limousine door.

He had just straightened his suit, which was rumpled from sitting in the limousine when the doors to the bank opened and several people came out. Most he did not recognize but he recognized three of them at once having… detained… two of them at one point or another and one being his own brother who…

Was he carrying a child? Why was his brother _carrying_ a child? _Willing?_ And was Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector walking beside them as if they were going to protect them both from anything they deemed a threat?

What in the world happened in that bank in the past twenty-four hours?

Oh... He could feel a headache coming on, the kinds of which only Sherlock could give him.

"Anthea?" said Mycroft quietly as he saw his brother and company head his way.

"Yes, sir?" she replied from his side, phone in hand.

"Send all the footage from the bank to my office so I can go over it. I want all of it. From the moment my brother walked into the bank until right now."

"Yes, sir," she replied and she moved off to the side and started doing as asked.

His brother was now three feet away and then he, Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector stopped walking and Mycroft took a couple steps in their direction and stopped and everyone, except for the child in Sherlock's arms, stared at each other. The child had his head on Sherlock's shoulder, avoiding looking at anyone.

Then Mycroft said, raking his eyes up and down his brother's form trying to see if there was any visible damage, "Sherlock." In that one single word, he asked many things of his brother.

"Mycroft," said Sherlock simply and in that single word, in his normal, almost scathing tone when addressing him, Mycroft knew Sherlock was suffering no lasting damage from his ordeal.

"So I see you suffer no long lasting side effects from your ordeal over the past twenty-four hours," said Mycroft posing it like a statement. He was going to double check the bank footage either way but he would rather his brother tell him, especially since there was no audio and lip-reading was a tedious task.

"So it would seem," said Sherlock, not giving anything away, though there was a hint of a smirk.

The child shifted slightly in Sherlock's arms as Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector watched the conversation. Mycroft let out a sigh. His brother was going to _make him ask_ what happened.

"Who is the child?" asked Mycroft, beating around the bush of asking what actually happened inside the bank during the last twenty-four hours for the moment. The child was actually a more pressing issue at the moment since he seemed attached to his brother and he was about ninety-three point seven percent positive that his brother did not kidnap him.

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Sherlock which caused the child to jump and Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector to look at him in shock.

Mycroft simply raised an eyebrow at him and said, "I did not say a word."

"You were thinking it," said Sherlock testily.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one he does that to," the Detective Inspector said to Doctor Watson who nodded his head in agreement.

Mycroft and Sherlock both ignored them and the child stared at them all with wide eyes behind his glasses.

"What was I thinking?" asked Mycroft as if he didn't have the foggiest idea of what Sherlock was talking about.

"If I were going to kidnap a child, I would be more creative than to take them to the bank to make them pick up their own ransom. Give me some credit, Mycroft. I'm not that boring!" said Sherlock. He looked indignant at the very thought.

Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector just shook their heads at him and the Detective Inspector also added, "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

 _'Smart man,'_ thought Mycroft. He would hate to do something unfavorable towards the man. He was actually quite good at his job, despite what Sherlock thought, and he got results.

Suddenly there was a breeze and the wind blew the child's bangs off his forehead.

 _'Somebody upstairs hates me,'_ was Mycroft's next immediate thought as he got a look at the boy's forehead and knew immediately who it was. No further introduction was needed for him.

"You know who he is!" said Sherlock at once.

Of course, he couldn't hide that from his brother no matter how blank he kept his face. Mycroft let out a sigh. Somebody really hates him. What did he ever do to deserve this kind of punishment? He was a mass murderer in a previous life, wasn't he, and this is his repayment. It was the only logical conclusion he could draw.

"Don't ignore me, Mycroft!" said Sherlock.

Mycroft let out another sigh and cast a glance around at all the bystanders. If there was any possibility that _they_ thought he was in the bank… No better continue this conversation somewhere else.

"Mycroft!" said Sherlock.

No doubt, if his hands weren't full, Sherlock would have thrown something at him by now, thought Mycroft. He just can't let anyone else gather their thoughts.

"Mycroft!" said Sherlock and he sounded exasperated this time.

"Come with me," said Mycroft finally looking back at his brother and his friends, even if he won't admit it to himself yet. "We need to get out of sight. I hate cameras."

Sherlock shifted the child to his other side. Obviously, he was getting a little heavy but he was reluctant to put him down, interesting, and he gave his brother a hard look. Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector just sighed, which they probably spent a lot doing in the past twenty-four hours.

After another moment, Sherlock nodded his head and both Sherlock and Mycroft, who pivoted, headed towards the limousine, expecting the other two to follow them.

John and Lestrade exchanged a look, let out another sigh and followed the two brothers. They came to a mutual agreement that the Holmes brothers weren't even worth the argument anymore as they caused ulcers and they would never see what they did was wrong anyway.

Anthea, who was still busy texting on her phone, reached with one hand and opened the door to the limousine to let her boss and his company into the car.

"Shall I sit up front with the driver?" asked Anthea, attention still on the phone.

"If you don't mind," said Mycroft, but he made it sound like an order. John wondered how he did that.

"Yes, sir," said Anthea. She glanced up for a second and she looked shocked that Sherlock was holding a child before her face blanked again and she looked back at her phone, waiting for everyone to get into the limousine so she could shut the door.

Sherlock looked at the child and said, "I have to put you down so we can get into the car, all right?"

The child nodded his head slowly and glanced at Mycroft nervously.

"He's harmless," said Sherlock as he set the child down on his own two feet.

Mycroft looked insulted at that. _He_ wasn't harmless. _He_ was feared by many.

"See? Just look at his face," said Sherlock.

The child looked over at Mycroft who quickly got rid of his insulted face and looked annoyed. Unsurprisingly, that only made the child more nervous and to Mycroft's internal surprise, Sherlock, Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector all scowled at him.

The child gestured to Sherlock to get down to his level and Sherlock did so and the child whispered in Sherlock's ear, or he thought he did but everyone could hear, "He's not like _them_ , is he?"

Sherlock, Doctor Watson and the Detective Inspector all scowled briefly to themselves before Sherlock blanked his face and said to the child, "No. He's not like them at all. He's, as much as it pains me to say it, and believe me it pains me a great deal, young Harry," Mycroft sighed to himself, he hates it when he is right, "my brother is really _nice_ to those he cares about… in a twisted, stalker –"

"That's enough, Sherlock," said John. Harry was looking a little freaked out at the last bit.

"Yes, right," said Sherlock nodding his head. "The point," he continued, "is that Mycroft is harmless. Isn't that right, Mycroft?"

Sherlock gave him a look that said he better tell Harry that he was harmless or so help him he would find heads and toes in all of his refrigerators.

"I'm completely harmless, Mister Potter," said Mycroft in a dry voice. "Please do get in the limousine now." He got in himself and waited for everyone else to get in after that little bombshell he had just dropped. He only regretted not getting a proper look at his brother's face; it was so hard to shock him.

Unsurprisingly, the first person in the limousine after him was Sherlock who gave his brother a contemplative look as he sat across from Mycroft. The next person was Lestrade who sat on the seat between Sherlock and Mycroft. He was followed cautiously by Harry who sat immediately right beside Sherlock, in the farthest seat from Mycroft, who didn't know how he felt about that right now but that was the least of his problems for the moment if the child was afraid of him. Doctor Watson got in last and sat in the last available seat beside Harry.

The door shut with a snap after that and Anthea got into the front.

"Back to the office," said Mycroft.

"Yes, sir," said the driver.

Mycroft then raised the partition. He didn't want any potential conversation overheard, even from his own trusted staff, though his driver was new so he was not completely trusted yet.

They rode in silence though. No one was willing to break the silence and Sherlock was determined to stare at him while not blinking at all.

The child, Harry Potter, was oddly still. Weren't children more active and more animated when riding in a vehicle? Then again, he was just involved in a twenty-four hour hostage situation so he is probably exhausted. Yes, there he goes, lying his head on…Sherlock's shoulder and Sherlock was letting him, what is the world coming to?

Mycroft seriously hopes his brother realizes he cannot just take in stray children… they are not pets. Mister Potter has a family that he has to go back to.

Sherlock's stare got even more intense as that thought crossed Mycroft's mind. Not for the first time, Mycroft wonder if his brother was a mind reader as he knew his own facial tells and ticks were nonexistent at this point.

Then there was Doctor Watson's and the Detective Inspector's reaction as they walked out of the bank as well that Mycroft had to consider especially since they were the levelheaded ones when dealing with anything related to Sherlock. But they seemed to be on the same page as Sherlock in consideration with Mister Potter.

Which lead him to the same question: What the hell happened in that bank for the last twenty-four hours?

He let his thoughts drift after that for the remainder of the ride that lasted a total of twenty minutes, this driver obviously knew some short-cuts. As long as he was not a traitor, Mycroft would enjoy this man's driving abilities.

The limousine stopped and the driver and Anthea got out and the driver opened the door. Mycroft exited the limousine first followed by Lestrade and John.

Sherlock looked down and saw that Harry had fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake him, since he knew children needed sleep, even though he thought it was dull, and he knew Harry barely got any last night due to the situation they were in, he decided to carry him. Luckily or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it, Harry was on the light side so Sherlock moved him into his arms, slid in the seats until he was at the door and got out of the limousine, without causing injury to himself or Harry. He was quite pleased with himself. He then moved Harry into a more comfortable position on his shoulder, without losing Harry's glasses which were still miraculously on his face, as holding him like an offering to some sort of deity was uncomfortable for both of them.

Sherlock looked up at everyone and saw everyone looking at him.

"What?" he asked, a bit defensive but quietly, lest he woke Harry up.

"Nothing," said John and Lestrade, though they were grinning like fools at him.

Mycroft simply didn't say a word to him, just gave him a weird look.

"Anthea, you can go to your office and finish up what I asked you to do there," said Mycroft.

"Yes, sir," said Anthea, not looking up from her Blackberry as she headed off towards her office.

"Follow me," said Mycroft to Sherlock, John and Lestrade.

He led them through the corridors until they got to his office. He opened the door and let them in.

"You can lay Mister Potter on the couch," said Mycroft, gesturing his brother towards the couch that was out of the way but still in the line of sight of anything in his office.

Sherlock nodded once and laid Harry down on the couch. He looked at him for a moment, considering, before he took the blanket off the back, what Mycroft was doing with a blanket on his couch Sherlock would never know and he didn't feel like deducing right now, and covered Harry with it. Then he reached over and took Harry's glasses off his face and put them on the table beside the couch, least Harry breaks them in his sleep.

Satisfied that Harry was as comfortable as he could make him, it was Mycroft's couch, after all, he turned back to Mycroft, John and Lestrade who were staring at him.

"What?" he asked again. Honestly, the staring was getting old, not to mention confusing. Did he have something on his back? Did he sit in something?

"Nothing," said John and Lestrade, again, grinning at him like idiots.

His brother still did not say anything; just gave him a calculating look. Sherlock stared at him as well. That confirmed it. He must have sat in something. First chance he got where it wouldn't be suspicious, he was going to the bathroom to check what it was and try to remove it.

After a few minutes of silence and staring, both Mycroft and Sherlock saw out of the corner of their eyes, John and Lestrade exchange a look and simultaneously roll their eyes. Both Mycroft and Sherlock felt insulted. What was that suppose to mean?

Before they could voice anything, there was a knock at the door and Anthea came in with tea and biscuits, her Blackberry put aside for the moment. She put the tea and biscuits down on Mycroft's desk and left, without so much as a word to anyone.

"Sit down," said Mycroft gesturing to the three seats in front of his desk.

John and Lestrade sat down, they were exhausted after all. They were up all night and the day before. Sherlock let out an indignant noise at being bossed around but he sat down regardless if he did sit on something he could get it on his brother's furniture or he must be more tired than he let on.

"Have some tea and biscuits," said Mycroft, gesturing to the aforementioned items.

"Do you have to make everything sound like an order?" asked Sherlock.

"I do not," Mycroft responded back immediately sounding indignant.

John and Lestrade ignored them both and went straight for the tea and biscuits as Sherlock and Mycroft continued back and forth. They were going to need as much help as they could get to deal with both Holmes brothers.

"You do," said Sherlock sounding stubborn.

"Just drink the tea and have something to eat," said Mycroft, sounding fed up with the line of conversation already.

Sherlock gave an indignant sniff but he took the cup of tea that John had poured and took the biscuits that Lestrade had passed him.

They ate and drank in silence with the occasional snore from Harry.

When they were finished, Mycroft looked at them and said, "Tell me what happened in the bank."

John and Lestrade looked at Sherlock who had folded his hands in front of him and said, "Tell me how you know about Harry."

Mycroft waved a dismissive hand and said, "If you are somebody in the British Government then you know about Harry Potter and what he did and how important he is to some people. Now tell me about the bank."

"To some people? But not to you? You didn't answer my question," said Sherlock, sounding impatient.

Mycroft let out a sigh and said, "If you, Doctor Watson and Detective Inspector Lestrade tell me about the bank situation first, in full detail without omitting anything, then I will let you know all about what I know about Harry Potter."

"Why do we have to go first?" asked Sherlock, crossing his arms.

"Because I'm older than you and I said so," said Mycroft drily.

"That doesn't work anymore! We're not children!" said Sherlock, sounding exasperated.

"Then stopping acting like one for God's sake," said Mycroft, sounding exasperated himself.

Sherlock looked at his brother while John and Lestrade stayed quiet, watching the exchange. It didn't do to interfere between a Holmes brother when they were fighting each other. You rarely left it unscathed as they had learned in the past.

"Fine," said Sherlock after a moment. "Where would you like us to start?"

"The moment it became an official hostage situation," said Mycroft, as if it were the most obvious place to begin.

Sherlock, John and Lestrade thought for a moment before Sherlock leaned back in his chair and said, "Right then, here's what happened…"


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 6/2/2013: This chapter has been edited and is now chapter 4. Nothing major has changed, just has a new chapter number.

Chapter 4

"Fine," said Sherlock after a moment. "Where would you like us to start?"

"The moment it became an official hostage situation," said Mycroft, as if it were the most obvious place to begin.

Sherlock, John and Lestrade thought for a moment before Sherlock leaned back in his chair and said, "Right then, here's what happened…"

"Wait a moment," said Mycroft as he searched his desk for something.

"What now?" asked Sherlock, sounding annoyed. "First you ask me to start and now you interrupt me right before I begin?"

Mycroft ignored him until he found what he was looking for, which happened to be a blank tablet and pen, and said, "I wish to take notes so I can compare."

"For when you watch the bank footage?" asked Sherlock sounding bored as if Mycroft were wasting his time.

"Yes, precisely," said Mycroft and he had his pen poised over the tablet.

"Does he even know how to take notes?" Lestrade asked John who snorted. Mycroft ignored them while Sherlock grinned. He knew there was a reason why he kept the inept Detective Inspector around.

"Whenever you are ready," said Mycroft, ignoring the childish behavior going on in his office with practiced ease as he looked at his brother with a straight face.

"Right," said Sherlock with a grin still on his face. "Here's what happened after Lestrade's very inept colleagues forced the bank robbers back into the bank…"

* * *

**_Twenty-five hours before…_ **

The bank robbers - now hostage takers - pointed their guns at everyone in the bank and everyone instinctively raised their hands, even Sherlock who frowned slightly as he had never given into demands that weren't uttered before in his life, though the hostage takers were angry, it was practically palpable, and everyone could tell, so perhaps it was a good thing.

Sherlock, John and Lestrade could also tell they didn't plan for this eventuality. They actually believed they could come in the bank, get the money and get out without any problems and wasn't that just a recipe for disaster. Sherlock wanted to laugh at their stupidity but refrained himself, just barely.

"You three," said the suppose leader of the hostage takers to his companions, why else would he be giving instructions after all, "watch them for a minute while I think."

Sherlock, again, barely held in a snort at that but no sound escaped him and for that, he suspected, everyone in the bank, John and Lestrade especially, were grateful.

The leader, who was the tallest of the four hostage takers, started to pace and run his hand not holding the gun over his masked head as he talked to himself to work out a plan, not looking at the hostages, which could either be a good thing or a bad thing.

Sherlock also noticed a bulge on his left ear under his mask. What was that? Deformed ear? No. Not that kind of bulge. Headphones? No. No cord, though it could be hidden beneath his clothes, but Sherlock doubted it because who would use only one headphone, especially while robbing a bank? Bluetooth? Most probable. So who was he talking to? Because he was definitely talking to someone…You don't call yourself 'sir.' When did he make the call as well? When he was on his way back inside the bank? He needs more data.

 _'So not a complete idiot though obviously not the leader of this whole operation and that would explain where the guns came from as they aren't easily accessible. I wonder if the actual leader will do something about this whole thing as his employees got themselves into a right mess,'_ was Sherlock's conclusion and thought so far as he watched the leader pace and mutter to himself about what he planned to do to get himself and his companions out of this mess with his boss on the other end of the Bluetooth connection.

After a couple of minutes, the leader seemed to have a rough plan formed with his boss as he turned back to the hostages, who hadn't moved a muscle, and said, "All right. First things first. Mobiles, wallets, purses from everyone old enough to have one." He spared a disparaging look at the two children, one who was sniveling beside his mother and father, the other who looked petrified but was silent by the same woman though not too close. "Right now! Get them out and have them ready to give to me when I'm standing in front of you!"

 _'Definitely not an idiot or his boss isn't an idiot,'_ thought Sherlock as he reached into his pocket for his mobile.

"Don't think of sending out any text messages either or I will shoot you and you will be one less person I have to deal with," said the leader, as he pulled the hammer back on his gun and pointed at a random person to make his point, as everyone scrambled to do what they were told.

 _'Hmm… they're getting better with the threats though not as good as what Mummy can do. Granted Mummy doesn't use loaded weapons,'_ thought Sherlock as he put his mobile in his hand. He didn't grab his wallet before he left the flat as he didn't expect to pay for anything today since John was the one who had to deposit his money and that meant anything they did today that needed paying for was John's treat.

By sheer bad luck, at least according to Sherlock's standards, the leader didn't start with him but headed towards the tellers and bank manager first to get their things.

 _'Ah, obviously he wants to know who hit the alarm and caused this mess,'_ thought Sherlock and those four are the first obvious choices. _'Great, so I'm just supposed to stand here with my mobile looking like my companions, like an idiot? Why can't anyone be original?'_

With the gun still in the ready to fire position, he walked up to one of the two tellers who went into the vault to give them the money and took the mobile and the wallet that was held out. He opened the wallet and ignored everything in there but the teller's identification card and closed the wallet again and tossed both the mobile and the wallet well away from everyone to the other side of the bank where they both hit the wall which the mobile didn't like very much as it ended up on the floor in two pieces with its battery out completely. The teller flinched quite noticeably at that.

"Tell me, Mr. Wall, did you happen to step on or push any silent alarms that would bring Scotland Yard to the bank?" asked the leader, softly, sounding deceptively calm.

Mr. Wall shook his head quite frantically and said, in case there was some doubt what the head shaking meant, "No."

The leader gave Mr. Wall a hard stare, gun still pointed at him, for a minute which made him and every one of the hostages, except for Sherlock who had an extremely bored look on his face as he held out his phone, nervous. John and Lestrade were used to this type of situation, who wouldn't be when in the company of one Sherlock Holmes and their professions, current or not, but they were nervous for Mr. Wall and the woman who did hit the alarm as they didn't know how the leader would react.

"I believe you," he said simply. "Don't do anything stupid though. I would hate to send you back to your family in a body bag."

Mr. Wall gulped rather audibly as the leader moved to the next teller who went into the vault with them to get the money. The leader held out his hand as he simultaneously pointed the gun at him and the teller handed over his mobile and wallet as well. Once again, the leader held the mobile while he opened the wallet, ignoring everything but the identification card before he closed the wallet and threw both items to the other side of the bank where they hit the wall and his mobile met the same fate as the first one.

"Mr. Jackson, did you happen to step on or push any silent alarms that would bring Scotland Yard to the bank?" he asked this teller, sounding yet again, deceptively calm, bringing the gun back up to point at him which he had lowered when he went through the man's wallet.

Mr. Jackson's reaction was very similar to Mr. Wall's. He shook his head and said, "No."

The leader, again, gave the teller a hard stare to determine how truthful he was being which made everyone, again, except for Sherlock, very nervous.

"I believe you," the leader repeated again and he repeated his warning about not doing anything stupid though he omitted the family part as Mr. Jackson didn't have one though Sherlock thought it was obvious from the lack of a wedding ring or pictures in the man's wallet, he after all wasn't that far from him, which is why it was incredibly frustrating that he wasn't next.

The leader moved on to the final bank teller who everyone knew, the hostages at least, hit the alarm. He pointed his gun at her and held his hand out for her mobile phone and her purse. She handed them over, arm shaking. The leader opened her purse, took out her wallet, opened it and looked at her identification card. Then he closed the wallet, put it back in the purse and then threw it along with the mobile phone to join the others across the room. Her mobile phone ended up in a similar state as the previous two; smashed.

"Tell me, Ms. Moore," said the leader conversationally bringing his weapon back up, as he again dropped it to go through her purse, to point at her, "If your fellow tellers, Mr. Wall and Mr. Jackson, didn't step on or push any silent alarms that all tellers have access to, does that mean you did?"

Sherlock, John and Lestrade all thought he sounded very, deceptively light.

Ms. Moore shook slightly but she didn't answer the question.

"I asked you a question!" shouted the leader sounding angry for the first time since the questioning started. "Did you hit the alarm or not?"

After a moment more of silence, Ms. Moore whispered, in petrified confirmation, "Yes, I hit the alarm."

There was a tense moment of silence from everyone in the bank, even Sherlock was tense as he couldn't turn his head to get a decent read on the leader, if Sherlock didn't know better he would say he was staying deliberately out of his range of vision for as long as possible, as they waited to see what he would do to the woman.

The leader moved his hand with the gun until it was level with the woman's face, as it was previously level with her chest, and he said to everyone in the room, "This is the one and only warning everyone else is going to get against doing something similarly stupid." He then pistol whipped the woman across the face and she dropped to the ground and didn't get up.

Everyone, except the only family, Sherlock and the hostage takers, made a movement towards the woman before there was a gunshot. The leader had shot the ground.

"What did I just say? Don't move! She's fine!" he shouted and he moved on to the next person as if he hadn't just pistol whipped someone and then shot the ground.

The leader now stood in front of the bank manager, with his gun pointed at the manager, and he handed over his mobile phone and wallet as soon as the leader held out his hand, his eyes shooting to his employee worriedly.

The leader opened his wallet, looked at his identification card and closed the wallet. Then he tossed the wallet and mobile phone across the room to join the others, the phone ending up like the others, in pieces.

"Tell me, Mr. Hunt. Did you hit a silent alarm also? I know there is one in your office as all bank managers have one, don't they?" said the leader.

Mr. Hunt, who perhaps was feeling rebellious in light of his employee's plight said, "How the hell am I suppose to know about other bank managers?"

The leader raised his gun so it was level with Mr. Hunt's face and said, very lightly as if they were only discussing the weather, "Attitude, Mr. Hunt. This is the one and only warning you and everyone will get about attitude. It was only a simple question."

"No, I didn't hit the alarm in my office," said Mr. Hunt and Sherlock could still detect a hint of attitude even if no one else could.

The leader stared at him, gun still raised, trying to ascertain if he was telling the truth.

There was a moment in which Mr. Hunt questioned whether he should have quit while he was ahead with the attitude in his responses as it could have possibly given the man doubt about whether he was telling the truth or not before the leader said, "It's good that everyone so far is telling the truth. I like that."

Sherlock really had to repress a snort at that. Like boring people are going to do something as much as _lie_ when their lives are threatened? He rolled his eyes.

The leader moved on to one of the three other customers that were there before Sherlock, John and Lestrade walked in. Sherlock sighed. He was getting bored standing here, holding his phone. He wanted to be questioned already.

Sherlock glanced around to try to stave off some of his boredness, he doesn't care if it's not a proper word, before he got John in trouble because John would no doubt try to do something stupid if Sherlock were threatened. Lestrade, too, would try something stupid if he thought about it.

Sherlock took in the rather small bank he was in. As he already noted there was only one way in or out, no doubt when this was all over Mycroft would rectify that problem. The doors, which were to his right, into the bank were so far unlocked as one of the tellers, Mr. Jackson if Sherlock wasn't mistaken and he rarely was, and the bank manager were the only ones with a set of keys. Then there was the flight of steps and then the doors that led outside.

Inside the bank, Sherlock really had to question why people thought fake potted plants were good decorations. They serve no purpose except to provide good places for people to throw up in, or so he was told by his college acquaintances, so why this bank had one in each of the two corners that he could see and probably ones in the others that he couldn't see, was just ridiculous. The cameras in the corners were a good touch though maybe the plants were supposed to distract people from the fact that they were being recorded?

Then there was teller counter behind him and the bank manager's office to the side of the counter on the right with the vault to the left of the counter. Not much to say about those as they were pretty much self-explanatory at this point.

The windows, however, were the problem though for who was the question: The snipers outside, the bank robbers/hostage takers or the victims in this whole mess? The windows were high up on the wall and pretty normal as much as windows went in a bank and covered with blinds so probably not too good for the snipers outside, though if this ends in a bloodshed, Sherlock has no doubt Mycroft would rectify that problem as well and make a law against having blinds in a bank. In fact, this bank should just be ready for a whole new look when this whole thing is over and to be ready to lose John as their client as there is no way Mycroft is letting Sherlock come here again and there is no way Sherlock is letting John come here again without him. The solution and only possible outcome is this bank is losing John as a client.

The leader raised his gun and held out his hand, Sherlock barely contained a sigh – that's all that happened while he made all his observations? – and the young man handed over his mobile phone and his wallet. The leader opened the wallet and ignored everything, again, but the identification card in there.

"So how about you, Mr. Morgan. Did you call anyone or text?" asked the leader looking at the young man after he closed the wallet and threw both the phone and wallet across the room to join the others. His phone, again, meeting the same fate as the previous ones.

The young man shook his head and said, shakily and very simply, "No."

Sherlock could actually glance at this one and thought he was probably a university student by his age and the way he was dressed. No professional would dress like that. Those trousers did not match his trainers or his sweatshirt. In fact, Sherlock thought he, himself, was mildly offended by the young man's choice of clothes wear. His own Homeless Network can dress better than that and at least color coordinate.

The leader stared at him, like he did with all the others, until the young man looked like he wanted to shift in discomfort, before he said, "Another truth teller. Excellent."

Sherlock was getting antsy now. He couldn't deduce anything more right now especially since he couldn't move and all the bank robbers seemed to be staying out of his line of vision. He started to tap his fingers on his mobile, the only movement he could get away with at the moment. If he didn't have something to do soon, he was going to do something that John would say was a "bit not good."

The leader moved to one of the other customers who got to the bank before Sherlock, John and Lestrade and held out his hand while pointing the gun at him. The man handed over his mobile phone and his wallet, somewhat reluctantly, as if he was handing over his life. Sherlock deduced that he was a businessman and his life revolved around his mobile, especially since he was the boss.

The leader opened the man's wallet, looked at his identification card and then closed the wallet. He looked up at the man and said, "What about you, Mr. Davis? You call or text anyone or email them to inform them of this situation?"

Mr. Davis looked at him as if he wished the hostage taker nothing but pain as he watched the hostage taker throw his mobile, which broke into pieces, and wallet to join the others on the other side of the room and said, "No."

The leader, obviously seeing and sensing the hostility from the man, glared very heavily at the man which was very apparent even through the mask, as if he doubted him until the man shifted his weight from one leg to another, losing the hostile look, and then he said, "That's good. I would hate for something unfortunate to happen to you. How would your business continue if you died?"

Mr. Davis gulped and didn't answer, figuring it was a rhetorical question and he was right as the leader moved on to the next customer.

The leader stuck the gun and his hand in front of the man, who handed over his wallet and mobile phone. He opened the man's wallet, looked at his identification card and then closed the wallet. He looked up at the man said, "What about you Mr. Knight? You call or text anyone like your wife or children to let the know what was going on?"

Mr. Knight paled at the mention of his family, shook his head and said, "No. I didn't."

The leader stared at him for a moment longer before he said, "Let's see if the next person can keep this honesty streak going."

 _'Please be me, please be me, please be me,'_ thought Sherlock desperately. He was so bored now. His mind was stagnating. _'I can be honest! So please be me, please be me, please,'_ his thoughts continued as if the leader of the whole situation could hear his mental pleading.

As if to spite him, at least according to Sherlock, the leader moved to the family beside him. Hopefully, they don't suffocate the kid that was in their grasp.

The leader this time did it differentially when going about getting the mobiles and wallet/purse from the family. Instead of pointing the gun at the person in question, he pointed the gun at the child between the two parents and held out his hand.

Sherlock could see the man getting extremely red in the face; he didn't think it was possible for a man to get that red (and didn't that require further experimentation), and the woman let out a terrified high pitch shriek before they both complied in handing over the requested items rather quickly. The other boy was standing slightly away from them and seemed not to be noticed by the leader in that moment yet.

While the leader was looking through the wallet and purse, Sherlock couldn't help but notice how the man and woman were looking at the other boy, as if they were blaming him somehow for it, if the expressions on their faces were anything to go by. He was confused. They certainly couldn't be idiotic enough to be blaming a five-year-old for this, even Anderson was smarter than that and it pained Sherlock to admit that even to himself.

The leader looked up after going through both of their things to get their names and tossed the two mobiles – did they both need one if they were going to the same place as a family? – and purse and wallet across the room to join the others. The mobiles, of course, broke on contact like the others. The man's face got even redder.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, did you call or text anyone to let them know what was going on here?" asked the leader, keeping his gun pointed at the child.

"No, we ruddy well did not," said the man, angrily.

The leader made the facial motion of raising his eyebrows, since his face was covered with a mask, at the man and said, "I believe I gave you a warning already about attitude, Mr. Dursley, but as I can see how this situation is distressing with my holding a weapon on your son, I will let it slide. _This time_. Don't repeat it or I won't be so forgiving and it won't be _you_ who feels my wrath. Understand?"

Sherlock wondered if someone was telling this leader what to say and how to control his temper through that Bluetooth on his ear… that sounded too smart for someone idiotic enough to rob a bank.

Mr. Dursley simply nodded his head, which Sherlock considered it to be the smartest thing that man did all day that he saw.

The leader turned to Mrs. Dursley and said, "Well, I've got your husband's answer. What about you? Did you call or text anyone to let them know what was going on here?"

Mrs. Dursley gripped her son tighter, shook her head and said, very simply, "No."

The leader stared at them for a minute before he said, "We still have a nice honesty streak going on. I like that. Let's keep it up."

He went to move on to the next person when he spotted the dark-haired boy who was standing slightly away from the family and he said to the woman, as he didn't seem to trust the man with the temper problem, "Is that one with you too?"

Mrs. Dursley nodded stiffly.

"Keep an eye on him then. You don't know what happens in dangerous situations like these. Anything could happen to brats that aren't being watched properly," he said before turning in John, Sherlock and Lestrade's direction.

Sherlock saw the woman grab the boy, none too gently, and pulled him slightly closer to her but not too close. He frowned slightly to himself. That's not normal socially accepted behavior. At least he did not think it was. Why did he care anyway and what was that unpleasant sensation starting in his gut?

Before he could think on it anymore, the leader was in front of John and had his gun pointed at him as he held out his hand. John handed over his wallet and mobile that he got from his sister – Sherlock wondered if Mycroft had a chance to bug it yet – and the leader opened his wallet.

He went through his wallet to look at his identification card and Sherlock saw the leader's eyes narrow on something else behind it. He must have seen John's Army identification card as well. He closed the wallet and tossed it and the mobile across the room where the mobile broke, like the others.

Then the leader moved his gun up to John's face and said, "What about you Mr. Army Doctor John Watson? Did you call or text anyone or are you waiting until you can act like a hero on your own?"

John's eyes widened slightly at how close the gun was to his face, but other than that, he didn't show any outward fear as to what was going on, despite knowing how trigger happy these robbers were. He shook his said and said, "No."

"To which part of the question, Doctor Watson?" asked the leader, not moving the gun an inch.

"Both. I didn't call or text anyone. Nor am I going to act like a hero," said John.

The leader looked at John long and hard, longer than anyone else in the bank, and finally, he said, "All right. I believe you, _for now_ , and you better not cause any problems either or else I'll shoot you and save myself a headache. Got it?"

John nodded his head. Sherlock didn't like that. No one got away with threatening John and lived to tell the tale.

The leader moved to, finally, Sherlock thought he could jump for joy quite literally, himself. The leader pointed the gun at Sherlock's chest, really how boring, and held out his hand. Sherlock, with a little flourish, handed over his mobile phone.

The leader scowled at him behind his mask and said, "Where's your wallet?"

"I do not have it on me right now," said Sherlock, quite cheerfully. Finally, he wasn't bored in this thrilling situation.

The leader looked at him skeptically and John and Lestrade looked like they quite literally wanted to put their faces in their hands. How odd.

"Where is your wallet if you don't have it on you right now?" asked the leader, his eyes raking up and down Sherlock's body as if trying to decide if he could have hidden it in his suit somewhere.

"In my flat," said Sherlock as if the man were an idiot, which he was. Who robs banks anymore? Identity theft was the way to go!

_Thinking of identity theft… No, John could still be in danger… but there is no real way to prove I wasn't who I said I was… John could still be in danger… What are you my conscience? Yes. Fine, I'll give my real name._

"Why would you come to a bank without your wallet?" asked the leader.

"I didn't have any business with this bank so why would I need my wallet?" questioned Sherlock back.

"Then why did you come?" asked the leader. He sounded frustrated and he forgot his own rules. Lestrade looked like he would sympathize with him if he wasn't a bank robber and hostage taker as Sherlock tended to do that to you.

"Didn't you ever just need to stretch your legs?" asked Sherlock.

The leader growled, actually growled, and pointed his gun at Sherlock's face and cocked back the hammer. "You want to try that again?"

Sherlock let out a long, suffering sigh before he said, "I came with my flatmate because he needed to go to the bank and I wanted to get away from an annoying person who happened to follow us here."

" _Who_ is your flatmate?" asked the leader, still pointing the gun at him.

"Doctor John Watson," said Sherlock as if it were obvious and it should have been as he was standing right next to the man and Lestrade.

The leader scowled once more at Sherlock behind his mask before he turned his gun back to John and asked, "He telling the truth? He come here with you?"

John nodded his head and said, "Yes, he came here with me."

The leader turned his attention back to Sherlock but kept his gun pointed at John and said, "What's your name then and I better believe it's your real one or your mate here will get it."

Sherlock let out another sigh – really no new threats? – and said, "Sherlock Holmes."

The leader paused for a moment and said, with a question in his voice, "Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes," Sherlock said, almost snappishly. He hated repeating himself, after all, especially to people who had guns pointed at people he could tolerate.

The leader stared at him for a moment and then said, "All right Mr. Holmes, did you text or call anyone?"

"No," said Sherlock, still sounding snappish.

The leader's eyes narrowed behind his mask, then he threw Sherlock's mobile across the room where it broke in pieces and almost hollered, "This is the very last warning anyone is getting about attitude."

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something more but he got an elbow in each of his sides for his trouble.

"You've got a good mate there, Mr. Holmes, to stop you from getting shot," said the leader, the gun now pointing back at Sherlock which made Sherlock slightly happier as it was no longer pointed at John because of him, "and you are lucky I believe you about not texting or calling anyone. Now be quiet, as hard for you as that may be."

Sherlock kept his mouth closed and got what John and Lestrade knew as his thinking face on. Sherlock had obviously wound the leader up enough to warrant being shot so whoever was running the show was either trying not to make a mess too early on or knew who Sherlock was and didn't want to kill him yet, maybe his fan, Moriarty?

The leader was now in front of Lestrade, pointing his gun at him and holding his hand out for his wallet and mobile.

As Lestrade was handing over his mobile, it started to ring and everyone in the bank, bank robbers/hostage takers and hostages, except for the woman still on the ground unconscious from being pistol whipped, alike stared at the phone with a morbid fascination and wondered who on earth was calling.

* * *

Sherlock suddenly broke off as he started to cough and he reached for his cup so he could pour himself a cup of tea. Mycroft couldn't help but scowl at his brother.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 6/2/2013: I have edited this story. Nothing too major. I have added a teeny tiny prologue to the beginning and combined the previous chapters 1 and 2 into one chapter. So you may want to go and read the new prologue too! :)

Chapter 5

Sherlock suddenly broke off as he started to cough and he reached for his cup so he could pour himself a cup of tea. Mycroft couldn't help but scowl at his brother.

Then he glared at his brother. Sherlock did that on purpose!

Sherlock raised the cup of tea to his mouth and took a drink.

"Bastard! You did that on purpose!" said Mycroft, resorting to name calling and swearing. His brother was finally in the middle of something interesting besides the phones breaking and he had to "conveniently" go into a coughing spell. How typical!

John and Lestrade raised their eyebrows. It wasn't often that Mycroft was driven to such a point by Sherlock as Mycroft was known to keep his cool and he thought name calling was just downright petty, especially in the company of others. It just goes to show how stressed Mycroft has been these past twenty-four hours.

Sherlock lowered his cup of tea and opened his mouth to respond with a scathing remark when John interrupted first, after he got over his slight shock, and said with his eyebrows still raised, "Now, Mycroft, normally I would agree with any name you would be calling your brother, on principal, not because it's you who called him that but because normally Sherlock deserves it," Sherlock frown at that because how was that helping _him_ , as John, not looking in his direction to see his expression, continued, "but is it really necessary to insult your own mother's relationship with your father?"

Sherlock's frown immediately turned into a neutral look as he tried to suppress his grin until he had some coverage as he mentally applauded John in his head and gave him a mental compliment, "Nicely done, John, nicely done." That was the way to get through to his brother and underhanded. He brought his cup of tea up to hide his grin, and of course, to soothe his "cough."

Lestrade wasn't bothering to hide his grin. He was just pleased he wasn't the one being annoyed by Sherlock this time and it had the bonus of ticking off Mycroft which was always a plus in his book especially since Mycroft always thought he was at his beck and call and "abducting" him whenever he pleased.

Mycroft stared at John as if he had never seen him before, before deciding John probably spent too much time in the company of his younger brother and had obviously learned some tricks. He inclined his head and said, "Touché, Doctor Watson, touché." He turned towards his brother and said, "You imbecile! You did that on purpose!"

Sherlock lowered his cup of tea, again, turned his stare at his brother and said, "Can one not have an excess of phlegm in their throat anymore, be able to cough to clear it and then have a drink of tea to soothe their sore throat from the coughing?"

"No," said Mycroft drily.

"Now who is being the bas-" John cleared his throat, "imbecile?" Sherlock said, changing the insult mid-word as he didn't want to insult Mummy after all, marvelous woman that she was, and her feelings were the only ones he cared about in this situation.

Mycroft just stared at his brother. Then he took a deep breath to focus; it wouldn't do to strangle his brother, think of the all the explaining he would have to do, not to mention all the work and paperwork involved. No better to control his temper.

"Just drink your tea so you can finish telling the story," he said trying to keep his patience with his brother. He has had years and years of practice already; it shouldn't be too hard. It really shouldn't.

"Story? This isn't a story, Mycroft! This was a very traumatic -" said Sherlock before he was cut off.

"Traumatic?" questioned Mycroft, as if he were doubting that the earth was round, the sky was blue and the grass was generally green. "When has anything in your life been traumatic and then you admit to it?"

Sherlock glared at his brother with a look that said, "You know when but I am _not_ going say it out loud."

"I thought so," said Mycroft with a small smirk which caused John and Lestrade to trade confused glances at the exchange they missed and Sherlock to glare at Mycroft even more. "Now will you finish telling your... tale?"

Sherlock, still glaring and disconcerted that he lost another round of verbal sparring with his brother, finished off his tea without answering Mycroft for the moment, taking longer than was extremely necessary.

Mycroft just sighed at his brother's pettiness. He wondered how many times he had done that since this whole fiasco begun.

When Sherlock was done with his tea, he set his cup down, leaned back in his chair, put his hands together in front of him and looked at his brother.

Mycroft let the staring contest go on for a few seconds before he said, "Well? Are you going to continue or not?"

"No," said Sherlock simply.

"No?" said Mycroft, sounding incredibly incredulous and frustrated.

"Is there an echo? No," said Sherlock, still not blinking or looking away from his brother's face.

Mycroft, frustrated beyond belief already with his brother, turned to look at the other two occupants in his office and demanded, "Well? Which one of you will like to continue on?"

John and Lestrade exchanged a look before John inclined his head to Lestrade who said, "I guess I will since it's my mobile that is ringing."

"Hmm, how dull," said Sherlock, still not blinking or looking away from his brother who chose to ignore him for the time being with practiced ease since he was about to get his answer.

"Whenever you are ready then, Detective Inspector," said Mycroft, ignoring what his brother had said.

"Right," said Lestrade, clearing his throat, somewhat awkwardly at the intense stare Mycroft was giving him. He wondered briefly if Sherlock learned his stare from Mycroft or if it was the other way around before he said, "As I was handing over my phone..."

* * *

**Twenty-four hours, fifty minutes before in the bank...**

As Lestrade was handing over his mobile, it started to ring and everyone in the bank, bank robbers/hostage takers and hostages, except for the woman still on the ground unconscious from being pistol whipped, alike stared at the phone with a morbid fascination and wondered who on earth was calling.

Lestrade quickly glanced down at his ringing mobile to see who was calling and noticed it was Sergeant Donovan. He was supposed to be back at the crime scene at least twenty minutes ago.

The phone stopped ringing.

The leader growled, pointed his gun at Lestrade and said, "Who's calling you and why?"

Lestrade said, as calmly as he could knowing how on edge, and trigger-happy these men were, "A coworker wondering where I am."

"Are you the boss or something?" asked the leader with his gun still pointed in Lestrade's face.

"Something like that," said Lestrade as his phone started to ring again. Donovan didn't like to be ignored.

The leader, not liking that answer or the fact that the phone was ringing again, let out another growl and took the mobile, still in Lestrade's outstretched hand, and was about to throw it across the room, if only to stop it from the annoying ringing, when he noticed the caller ID.

"Sergeant Donovan? Why would you have a Sergeant calling you?" asked the leader angrily, his mind immediately jumping to the two possible worse cases in this situation, in his mind at least. "Are you a copper? Or are you in the army like our good doctor over there? Give me your wallet? Carefully." He threw the mobile now across the room after it stopped ringing for the second time and it broke into more pieces than any of the others which just goes to show how much more strength went behind throwing his phone than them, even Sherlock's. Plus he didn't want the phone to ring for the third time.

Lestrade noticed the other hostage takers shift slightly at the possibility that he could be with the police as he was carefully and slowly handing over his wallet to the leader and realized that this could mean trouble for him when they found out and Lestrade had no doubt that they wouldn't find out. He just couldn't let innocent citizens or children get hurt and he couldn't remember if there was anything in his wallet that had "Detective Inspector" on it. At least, they didn't say for him to hand over his badge so it may take a while for them to find out. Hopefully, they didn't frisk anyone although they wouldn't find his gun. He doesn't carry when he goes to Sherlock for help for obvious reasons.

He instinctively held back the automatic, "Take it easy," that wanted to come out, as that could identify him as a cop especially since you always hear that line on the telly from them, as the leader actually took his wallet from him.

Lestrade held his breath as the leader opened his wallet and started to go through it. The leader went through Lestrade's more carefully than he went through anyone else's. Finally, he pulled out Lestrade's driver's license which Lestrade knew didn't have 'Detective Inspector' on it.

"Greg Lestrade," the leader read out before he placed the driver's license back in the wallet and throwing it across the room to join the rest. "So, Greg Lestrade," and Lestrade didn't like how the leader was saying his name, "I didn't find any evidence in your wallet but that doesn't mean anything so, are you a copper?"

Lestrade knew he didn't have too long to think about his answer or else it would be obvious so he went with his first instinct, after all, John was still standing despite it all and he was in the Army and could cause problems, and besides that overweight fellow, Mr. Dursley, looks like he is about to answer for him, and said, "Yes. I'm a Detective Inspector."

The three other hostage takers in the bank exchanged glances and, even though they were still masked, Lestrade could tell they were nervous which made them even more dangerous as they were more bound to panic then.

The leader, on the other hand, raised his gun some more and said, "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you now and save me all the hassle of you and Army Doctor over there trying to plot something to save everyone?"

Sherlock made a derisive sound. Lestrade closed his eyes. This always happened to him. He shook his head minutely to himself. It probably wasn't going to end well either. The leader turned towards Sherlock.

"Something you wanted to say?"

"Yes," said Sherlock.

"What is it?"

"First off, the past couple of lines? Not original in the least, any movie made in the last twenty or thirty years could have told you that," started Sherlock.

"Sherlock," said John and Lestrade, almost immediately, sounding slightly panicked. The hostage takers were trigger-happy after all.

Sherlock ignored them which was nothing new while the rest of the hostage takers and hostages watched them with fascination as if they couldn't believe this was happening in the middle of the situation they were in.

"What's the final thing?" growled the leader angrily.

"What makes you think it's the final thing I have to say?" asked Sherlock, sounding genuinely curious.

The leader, having learned something while trying to get the man's name and guessing this person was what caused his associate to fire the shot when they were in the vault now that he spent a few minutes with him, pointed his gun at the man's supposed roommate.

"You were saying?"

Even Lestrade could tell that line wasn't original but he could see the way Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly when the leader pointed his gun at John. It made him wonder if there was anything to what Sergeant Donovan was saying at the station the other day. Then he mentally shook his head. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about office gossip. When was the idiot outside going to call in anyway? Oh God, he's starting to sound like Sherlock now inside his own head. This day just keeps getting better and better.

It was at this time, one of the phones from one of the teller's station, Mr. Wall's if Lestrade wasn't mistaken, started to ring. Everyone except the leader and Sherlock turned to look at it.

It stopped ringing for a few seconds before it started to ring again.

The leader turned his head to left as if trying listening to something only he could hear. John and Lestrade traded a look while Sherlock just stared at the leader with a gaze that always made people feel very awkward with a small smile on his face which made John and Lestrade trade another look and wonder what on earth Sherlock was smiling about.

The phone stopped ringing again for a few seconds before it started again.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" asked Mr. Dursley, quite rudely, in Lestrade's opinion.

The leader glanced quickly in Mr. Dursley's direction, obviously forgetting he had asked Sherlock a question, before he redirected his gun from John to the phone and he shot it. Several of the hostages jumped and one of the kids let out a terrified shriek.

"SHUT UP!" shouted the leader and Lestrade had to wonder quickly what caused the leader to unravel because he had suddenly lost his cool and you would have to be blind as a bat not to see it as he had started to pace the room.

Another one of the phones started to ring and the leader shot it too before it could even ring for a third time.

Lestrade knows his colleagues are watching the security feed, they have to be, as the hostage takers didn't disable anything, so they have to be able see that their calling right now isn't helping and they should back off for a moment, regardless if it gave away the fact that they could see inside the bank.

The leader suddenly pauses in front of the vault as if considering it and everyone watches him silently, Sherlock included and Lestrade suddenly got a very bad feeling about what was about to happen next.

"Everyone into the vault, please," said the leader in a forced calm and Lestrade had to wonder if the leader didn't suffer from a mood problem and he wasn't the only one wondering it either if the looks on several of the other hostages' faces were any indicator.

"We'll suffocate!" cried Mrs. Dursley, clutching her son to her tighter as if it would somehow protect him.

"Why?" asked Sherlock, though he figured it out. He just wanted the man to admit it.

"EVERYONE IN THE VAULT! NO ARGUMENTS!" yelled the leader. The last part was directed at Sherlock and Vernon Dursley, who both looked like they wanted to protest, much to Sherlock's displeasure as he didn't want anything in common with the unpleasant, loud man.

The three other hostage takers ushered the fourteen hostages, Mr. Wall and Mr. Jackson helping Ms. Moore as she had just started to come around, into the vault. The leader then shut the vault, essentially locking them in.

After a moment of silence in which nobody spoke, not even Sherlock, though there was occasionally sounds of pain from Ms. Moore, and their eyes were able to adjust to the dim light of the vault, there was the sound and outline of somebody moving and everyone heard a male voice say, "This is all your fault, boy, isn't it? You did something freakish?"

"No, Uncle Vernon, I promise. I didn't do nothing," said a small voice in fright. Lestrade realized it was the other boy that was with the family.

Everyone looked in their direction to see that Mr. Dursley had grabbed the boy by his shoulders and was talking very close to his face, giving him the occasional shake to emphasize a point.

"Like I'm going to believe that. You are going to be in _so_ much trouble when we get home, I'll tell you," said the man, Vernon.

"You can't honestly be blaming a five-year-old for something four grown men are doing, can you?" asked Sherlock in his most scathing voice with a cross of his most patent tone which suggested that the man he was speaking to was particularly idiotic.

He also had a frown on his face. This was the second time that he and everyone else had heard the man say the word freak or a derivative of the word in regard to the boy and he had a weird feeling about it… One that he could not identify but made him want to… protect the boy from it. It required further experimentation and research on. Or maybe it was what he had to eat for lunch? Mrs. Hudson's biscuits today did look questionable…

"It is none of your business how I speak to my nephew," said Vernon, glaring at Sherlock while simultaneously shaking the boy again.

Lestrade frowned rather deeply at that along with John and the others who were in the vault, except for Vernon's wife and son who were obviously used to his rough treatment of the boy, and Lestrade said, "You'll find it is _my_ business on how you talk to and treat your nephew."

"Any decent person would make it their business," said John to the agreement of everyone in the bank who wasn't related to the man.

"Without a doubt and there is no way a five-year-old is responsible for this so get it out of your infinitesimally small brain," said Sherlock as if he were speaking to an obtuse five-year-old himself. The boy, himself, was staring at them all as if he had never seen anyone like them before.

Vernon sneered at them and opened his mouth to no doubt berate the three of them when Vernon's wife interrupted him and spoke quietly in his ear which caused him to grin slightly. Sherlock, John and Lestrade didn't like that at all, especially since it wasn't exactly a pleasant sight. When she was done whispering in his ear, he straightened up and looked at the three of them.

"Well," spoke up Vernon, moving himself and the boy so that they were both in front of Sherlock, John and Lestrade. "Since you three seem to be so concerned about the boy, you deal with him during this entire mess that we _know_ he caused." He then shoved the little boy at them to their shock as well as everyone else who was watching the scene unfold.

Sherlock, who was standing in between Lestrade and John, caught the boy before he could fall or smack into any of them. It wasn't his fault, after all, that his rather daft uncle shoved him at three people.

"Now wait a minute, you can't just do this," started Lestrade.

"How are you going to stop us? You didn't even stop a bank robbery!" sneered Mr. Dursley.

"That is hardly his fault, Mr. Dursley," said Sherlock as he steadied the boy some more using gentle hands. "Besides, I'm sure we can manage this perfectly well, Lestrade. Think of it as an experiment!"

"I've seen how your experiments ended," said Lestrade with a rare scathing look at Mr. Dursley. He always got touchy when someone, excluding Sherlock, insulted his ability as a policeman.

"Those were obvious failures. This will be a success," said Sherlock with a grin at John and Lestrade.

There were two snorts from the adults of the family which were ignored by Sherlock, Lestrade and John.

"You're already failing the first part, Sherlock," said John.

"No, I'm not," said Sherlock.

"Yes, you are. Children aren't experiments. You're scaring him. He probably thinks your going to do something very bad to him," said John with a nod towards the boy.

Sherlock looked down at the boy and noticed that John was right while Lestrade looked around at all the eyes on them and said, "Let's move to the privacy of a corner so we can talk. Yeah?"

The boy gulped as they all moved towards a corner where they could have some semi-privacy and have a discussion.

"Right, so I'm John, this is Sherlock," said John nodding his head at Sherlock, "and that's Detective Inspector Lestrade," he finished with another nod at Lestrade.

The boy nodded his head at John while Sherlock said, in derision, "He knows that already from when the leader out there read all of our names."

"It's polite to introduce yourself to someone you meet," said John calmly.

The boy just stared at them as if he were unsure about them as Sherlock just made a disparaging comment at social niceties.

"What's your name?" asked Lestrade distracting Sherlock from any further comments.

Before the boy could answer, though, one of the others, Mr. Knight, who was panicking slightly, asked, "But why did they put us in the vault?"

Sherlock snorted and said, "The leader of the bank robbery didn't want us to see him lose it, to start with."

Most of the others in the vault looked at Sherlock like he grew another head while John frown slightly thinking and Lestrade asked, "How do you mean?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Sherlock, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"No," said everyone except John, Lestrade and the dark-haired boy, who was watching the three of them intently in only the way a curious child can.

"He had a Bluetooth device in his ear and he was talking to someone when he was collecting all of our information. The person on the other end had obviously hung up on him when the phone rang out there and he wanted us out of his hair for the time being," explained Sherlock.

"How do you know?" asked Mr. Dursley rudely while everyone, except John and Lestrade who were looking thoughtful, looked incredulous.

"I use my eyes and brain."

Mr. Dursley sputtered but before he could say anything Sherlock looked at Lestrade and said, "The leader out there obviously isn't in charge of the whole operation. The person who was on the other end of that Bluetooth connection is. There is possibly a bigger picture here. I just need to find the connection. Are there any other unsolved bank robberies recently."

"It's not my department," said Lestrade at once but he had a frown on his face as he thought about any comments that were made around the station.

Sherlock made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat at that.

"Make all the noises you want but there are departments at Scotland Yard and bank robberies don't fall under mine," retorted Lestrade.

"And what does fall under your department?" sneered Mr. Dursley, determined to find fault with someone for losing his money.

"Murder," said Lestrade, just to shut the man up and it worked as Mr. Dursley sputtered and couldn't come up with a fast enough retort.

There was a lull conversation after that for a few minutes while everyone thought.

Then suddenly from behind the three men, who had all turned to face the rest of the people in the vault, came a small voice that said, "Harry."

 _'Small children,'_ thought Lestrade. They usually have horrible timing on answering questions though they had cut the poor boy off and there was the lull in conversation after his declaration for what department he worked with and Sherlock, and everyone else, needed to think with all the data he, they, had so far.

Nonetheless, the three of them turned around at the sound of his voice and John said, "Sorry?"

He looked nervous as he twisted his shirt in his one hand and said, still in a quiet voice, "My name is Harry."

Lestrade looked over at Sherlock and John. Sherlock had an unreadable look on his face, but then unless they were at a crime scene, Sherlock's face was usually unreadable to him in situations like this, not that they happened often. John, too, was looking at Sherlock waiting to see what he would say.

He never got the chance because Mr. Dursley had to put in his unwanted opinion.

"Freak! You are making a menace of yourself!" said Mr. Dursley angrily. He obviously wanted some answers but didn't know the way to go about getting them, especially since he was inserting himself into a conversation where he wasn't welcome.

The boy, Harry, flinched back into the wall of the vault at that and Sherlock turned around on the spot. Uh oh.

"No, Mr. Dursley. You will find that _you_ are making a menace of yourself. You are interrupting an important conversation. Now run your unemployed self back to your wife and son. You gave your nephew to us, remember?" said Sherlock taking one, very unthreatening, step towards Mr. Dursley.

Mr. Dursley sputtered and said, "I'm not unemployed."

Sherlock smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant smile, and said, "Keep telling yourself that."

"Why you –" said Mr. Dursley and he took a threatening step towards Sherlock with his hands out as if he were going to strangle him when Lestrade and John intervened.

"Calm down," said John but Mr. Dursley didn't listen, just kept trying to get towards Sherlock who was watching the scene impassively while the rest of the hostages in the vault stared at Mr. Dursley incredulously. They were all hostages stuck in a vault and this Mr. Dursley seemed intent on strangling another hostage. Unbelievable!

"If you are about to do what I think you are, remember what I said my department was," said Lestrade, "and attempted murder fits under the definition of my department as well."

"Vernon," said Mrs. Dursley clutching her red-faced son to her and Mr. Dursley, who was calming down, looked over at his wife. When she got his attention, along with everyone's, she whispered, as if no one else in the vault could hear, "Think of the neighbors."

Lestrade and John exchanged incredulous looks when they felt Mr. Dursley calm down completely after that. An attempted murder charge won't calm him down but the threat of neighbors finding out what could happen did. Lestrade just shook his head at John as they both let go of him. These people have their priorities wrong and made them wonder what poor, little Harry did to make them hate him so much. After all, if they didn't hate him, why would they give him to three strangers after they made some comments about how they were treating him?

"Yes, what _would_ your neighbors think," said Sherlock with an eye roll.

"Sherlock," said John with a sigh at the end and Lestrade couldn't help but agree with John. They had just stopped the man from killing him, no need to make him try again.

"Go back to your wife and son, please sir," said Lestrade, trying to remain professional.

Mr. Dursley just grunted but he walked back over to his family, put his arms around both of them and glared at Sherlock, John and Lestrade, who ignored him having turned back to Harry.

"That man is an overgrown walrus," said Sherlock with an eye roll as he turned his full attention back to Harry and the bank robbery problem.

Harry grinned slightly at the insult, having thought it himself several times.

"Be nice," said John, though he did grin.

Lestrade remained silent.

"I speak only the truth as I see it and my eyes hardly ever let me down," said Sherlock as he rubbed his stomach very slight that if Lestrade wasn't watching him, he would have missed it. Lestrade wondered why he was doing that. He better not be getting sick. A sick Sherlock was even worse than a healthy Sherlock and judging by John's expression he noticed the movement as well and had experience with a sick Sherlock.

Sherlock looked back at Harry, and said, "You don't look like a Dursley, judging from Mr. Dursley's and his son's hairstyle and color, chin, nose, eye color, et cetera. You're related to them through Mrs. Dursley so you're last name isn't Dursley, correct?"

Harry looked at Sherlock with big eyes, bemused, not sure what to make of the fast speech that was said to him.

"You know, Sherlock, most people just ask someone what their last name is," said John with a small smile in Harry's direction to let him know that no, Sherlock was not crazy. Lestrade didn't know how well that smile was interpreted by Harry.

"Simpletons," said Sherlock, still looking at Harry for an answer.

Harry finally processed what was said to him and said, "No, it's Potter."

Lestrade wondered if he was related to any of the Potters that belonged to the world he hadn't belonged to since he was eleven but he couldn't think on it anymore because Sherlock was talking again.

"Harry Potter?" asked Sherlock. "What kind of name is that?"

Harry looked confused and John said, while Lestrade rolled his eyes, "We can't all have names like Sherlock Holmes, can we?"

"Hmm, fair point," said Sherlock nodding his head.

Lestrade looked at Harry and said, "Ignore him when he gets like that."

Harry nodded his head but Sherlock shook his head and said, "Now, Lestrade, he was left in my care. He should be listening to me."

"Not when you're insulting his name," said Lestrade.

"Technically all three of us are supposed to watch him," said John.

"Was I insulting his name?" asked Sherlock, ignoring what John said.

"Yes," said John, rolling his eyes at Sherlock's behavior, Lestrade and Harry, nodding his head.

Sherlock looked at them all for a moment before he gave a very indignant sniff, in Lestrade's opinion, moved to the side, leaned against the wall and got into his thinking pose.

"Did we hurt his feelings?" asked Harry, sounding concerned.

John gave Sherlock a long look before he said, "No, he's just gone into his mind palace to think. It's better if we leave him there. He can be a pain when he's bored."

"His mind what?" asked Harry, hesitantly, he wasn't supposed to ask questions, as Lestrade nodded his agreement to what John said.

John explained it to him and Harry looked at them wide eyed before he asked, again still hesitant, "When he deletes things, are they gone forever?"

John and Lestrade exchanged a look and even Sherlock, who had been listening to John explain and even elaborated certain points when John was being an idiot about it and not explaining properly especially since he had not gotten anywhere in his mind palace with his new bank robbery case, apparently he hadn't stored anything recent about bank robberies, looked at Harry curiously for a moment.

"Why?" John asked curiously.

Harry looked around the room to see if anyone was paying attention to him, specifically his uncle and aunt, and said in a whisper, "I have nightmares sometimes and I think it's the night my parents died. If I make my own mind palace thing and delete the nightmares, would they be gone forever?"

John and Lestrade look at Sherlock who was now looking at Harry very intently and said, "How long have you been living with your uncle and aunt?"

"Since I was little," said Harry.

"You're still little," pointed out Sherlock.

Harry shrugged his little shoulders and said, "I dunno. They said I was fifteen months old when I was left on their doorstep." Harry clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Left on their doorstep?" questioned Sherlock.

"People still do that?" asked John confused. He thought people stopped that after the sixties.

Lestrade let out an angry sigh. He hated to see things happen to children like this.

"Forget I said anything!" said Harry in a panic with another glance towards his uncle and aunt. They hated it when he brought up the night that ruined their lives.

"They can't do anything to you here," pointed out John.

"Your uncle and aunt gave you over to us to watch you and Lestrade is a Detective Inspector, no matter how inept, and can arrest people even though he is currently a hostage in a bank and I very much doubt that he is going to let them take you back even after all of this," said Sherlock.

Lestrade was very confused. He had never seen Sherlock try to comfort a child before though he was doing an okay job at it as far as he could tell anyway. Lestrade had to wonder the reasoning behind it especially since Harry interrupted his thinking time.

"That's right," said Lestrade when Sherlock gave him a pointed look when he didn't say anything after ten seconds.

Harry stared at them all, in the way only a child can, to see if they were telling the truth and the three of them stared back at him before he finally nodded his ascent.

"Don't think you can change the subject on me. Why grown-ups think they can do that, I'll never know," said Harry, though he mumbled the last part to himself and Lestrade had half a notion to grin to himself and he probably would have if he wasn't in a vault in the middle of a hostage situation.

"What subject is that?" asked Sherlock and he was grinning. That was never a good thing.

"About deleting nightmares," said Harry.

He was getting more confident the longer he spoke to them was Lestrade's thought as he and John watched how Sherlock would handle this. He was the one who had the most knowledge on deleting memories and information so he had to answer this question.

Sherlock was watching Harry closely as Harry looked at him earnestly. He really didn't want to have the same nightmare anymore.

Instead of answering again, Sherlock asked, "Did you try talking to someone about your nightmares?"

Harry shook his head no and said, "They don't like it when I talk."

There was no question as to who the 'they' were.

Before Sherlock could respond, however, the bank manager, Mr. Hunt came over and asked Lestrade, "How long are they going to leave us alone here for?"

Lestrade opened his mouth to answer but before he could, Sherlock said, "Honestly, does no one think?"

Sherlock gets very irritated when people interrupt him except if you're a child apparently.

Mr. Hunt looked at Lestrade confused, who just shook his head knowing what was coming next from Sherlock, and said, "I'm sorry?"

"Let me ask you this, Mr. Hunt. Why would the bank robbers or hostage takers now, whichever term you prefer, I'm honestly on the fence, take everyone out of the vault when they know there is no way out of here unless they let us out and so no way for us to cause trouble for them and deliberately put us in a room where they actually have to watch us?"

Mr. Hunt and everyone else in the vault looked at Sherlock as if he were a weird science experiment causing Sherlock to turn to John and ask, "Really, what is it like in everyone's mind that they don't think of things like this?"

"Why would you assume I would know?" asked John.

"Because you aren't me," said Sherlock.

"Arrogant much?" asked Taylor Davis, the businessman.

"Yes and it is well-deserved," said Sherlock.

Taylor Davis looked at Lestrade in confirmation, as if he were to know somehow.

Lestrade let out a sigh and said, in a reluctant voice, he hated making Sherlock's ego bigger as dangerous things tended to happen, "Yes, it is."

"When will the bank robbers come in here?" asked Mr. Jackson, one of the tellers.

"Bank robbers? Really they were bank robbers first but that became a moot point after they came back in and thus became hostage takers," said Sherlock as he thought over the man's choice in phrases to describe the men.

"Sherlock," said John exasperation, if he wasn't being rude, he was critiquing how they spoke.

Sherlock looked at John who gave him a pointed look. "The hostage takers will only come in here if they want to kill any of us. Otherwise, it will be the police who let us out."

Again, everyone looked at Lestrade for confirmation of what Sherlock said. Apparently, since he was a Detective Inspector, he was the go-to guy for confirmation on the situation.

"He's right as far as I can remember from that department's protocols."

"That's not very reassuring," said Mr. Wall.

"It's not meant to be reassuring!" said Sherlock. "We're in the middle of a hostage situation. We are lucky we were left alone for this long. Really four hours is good from a hostage standpoint. Do you know how often these things end well for everyone, especially the hostages?"

"Really must you talk like that in front of the children?" asked Scott Knight, looking pointedly at the boy in Mrs. Dursley's arms and Harry behind him.

"Children don't like to be patronized and they liked to be told what's going on," said Sherlock simply. "They aren't idiots despite what adults think."

"They don't need to be scared, though, do they?" asked Mr. Wall.

"They have every right to know the same things as adults," said Sherlock simply and he moved back over to the side of the vault that he claimed as his and after a moment of hesitation, Harry moved so that he was close to him but there were at least a couple feet in between them.

After that last proclamation, everyone went back to what they were doing before though they were mumbling to themselves about Sherlock.

"I'm going to check on Ms. Moore," said John after a moment. "I should have done it as soon as we got in here but you know."

"Yeah," said Lestrade, wiping a hand wearily down his face before he went to a spot of the vault to get some space from everyone which just so happened to be next to the questionably dressed young man, who's name escaped him at the moment, and he sat in silence for the next hour though he heard the quiet murmurings coming from Sherlock and Harry and Lestrade could only assume Sherlock was teaching Harry more about mind palaces and if it was possible to delete nightmares.

 _'Hopefully this situation won't last much longer,'_ thought Lestrade and just as he thought that the vault suddenly opened and they all heard the leader say as he was right in the doorway of the vault, "That's going to cost you three hostages." He was obviously on the phone with one of Lestrade's colleagues.

They heard a muffled voice on the other end of the phone but then they were more worried about the three other accomplices who had just stepped into the vault with their weapons drawn and pointed at three random people but that didn't mean they were their targets. Lestrade dropped down to cover James Morgan, the name of the university student that was questionably dressed which just popped into his head, if he wasn't mistaken, who was closest to him. He saw John do the same for Ms. Moore who he was checking for a concussion and keeping an eye on her. He couldn't see Sherlock and Harry anymore due to the position he was now in. Then there was the sound of two gunshots, two thuds, panicked screams and when Lestrade looked up from his protective position of James Morgan, he saw –

* * *

"Oh my God, Sherlock. What the –" said Lestrade glaring at Sherlock as that was all he could do without choking.

It was decided, thought Mycroft as he watched Lestrade choke slightly on the biscuit that was just shoved in his mouth. He was going to kill his brother and have his best people hide the body.

* * *

Future excerpt from John's Blog

Time – Unknown

_Yes, Sherlock can be that childish just to annoy his brother as anyone who has read any previous blog entries should know or just to put things off for as long as possible. I do wonder, though, what was going through Mycroft's mind at this point during this retelling. He had such a scowl on his face and I'm pretty sure I saw him poke another hole in his paper that he was taking notes on…_


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: See prologue chapter. Also remember this is a story and anything that seems like it may be fact, I'm probably just making up. I am not a cop so I have no idea how things actually work in this type of situation, my only guide being the television...
> 
> Beta: Lady of the Shards

Chapter 6

**Mycroft's Office**

"Oh my God, Sherlock. What the –" said Lestrade glaring at Sherlock as that was all he could do without choking.

It was decided, thought Mycroft as he watched Lestrade choke slightly on the biscuit that was just shoved in his mouth. He was going to kill his brother and have his best people hide the body.

"Sherlock," said John with a sigh as he passed Lestrade a cup of tea to help him as he chewed on the biscuit in his dry mouth as he still choked somewhat on it.

"John," said Sherlock simply as if he didn't know what John was trying to imply.

John rubbed his head. He forgot how Sherlock could be about his brother. He would never make that mistake again, though, this incident finally beating the lesson in.

He wasn't the only one rubbing his head though. Mycroft was rubbing his head with one hand while clenching his pen rather tightly with the other and Greg was drinking another cup of tea to keep trying to clear his throat of crumbs. The only person who was unaffected was Harry, who was still sleeping on the couch, totally unaware of what was going on. John wished he could be sleeping right now.

Mycroft stopped rubbing his head, stood up and walked around from behind his desk, causing everyone but Lestrade, who was still choking on his biscuit slightly, to follow him with their eyes.

"Right, this is what we are going to do now," Mycroft said sounding and looking professional all of a sudden and John could finally _see_ how he could _be_ the British Government and not just a concerned big brother. He certainly did carry himself differently, probably exactly like he did when he pulled rank, which always felt good but John rarely did it, pulling rank for amusement was a big no in John's book. Mycroft was probably feeling like a smug bastard right now and judging by Sherlock's look, he definitely knew what his brother was doing and how he was feeling for sure while John, himself, was only making guesses.

"Stand up, John," said Mycroft looking at him as he stood slightly behind Sherlock.

John suddenly felt like a deer that was caught in the headlights of an oncoming car that was going sixty miles an hour and had no way of stopping in time before it hit him. Why did he have to stand up? He was the only one here, along with Lestrade, who wasn't acting childish and Harry had the excuse of actually being a child to act like one. Mycroft and Sherlock had no such excuse.

"Sometime this century would be nice if you please, Doctor Watson," said Mycroft still looking at him intensely.

Mycroft is just as cranky as Sherlock when one doesn't respond to them right way thought John as he cautiously stood up as everyone awake watched him. It was rather unnerving.

Once he was standing up fully, Mycroft said, "Excellent. Now, sit in my seat behind my desk."

"I'm sorry, what?" questioned John, looking confused and he wasn't the only one. Lestrade was looking confused as well though Sherlock was looking slightly put out. If John moved, he wouldn't be able to interrupt him when he wanted to, probably just what Mycroft wanted, the smug idiot. No matter, Sherlock was clever. He would find a way around this slight obstacle of inconvenience. It will take more than a desk to stop him.

"It's simple, John," said Mycroft and John wished Mycroft would pick either his name or his title and stick to it when addressing him for consistency's sake if nothing else, "if you sit in my seat and I sit in yours," Mycroft looked like the idea itself was rather unappealing never mind the action itself, "then Sherlock will not be able to interrupt you like he did the poor Detective Inspector and you can finish telling me what happened in the bank."

"What makes you think I'll finish telling you what happened in the bank?" asked John as he cautiously and gingerly sat down in Mycroft's chair. It was one of the most comfortable chairs he has ever sat in his entire life. He leaned back and his back cracked. Wonderful.

"No you can't take my chair with you," said Mycroft, before the thought could enter John's mind, an amused look on his own face at John's face, who didn't bother to look sheepish. The chair was amazing. "And in answer to your question, my brother," a look directed at Sherlock who just looked back at Mycroft, "won't continue and cannot be trusted to continue without taking excessive breaks to 'clear his throat of phlegm' and the poor Detective Inspector looks like he is going to be having quite the sore throat for a while, so that leaves you to finish the tale and in a place that is away from where my brother cannot interrupt you."

"Ye of little faith brother," said Sherlock before John could answer.

Mycroft just gave his brother a look, something he was doing a lot of today, and then he looked at John, not giving him a chance to respond, and said, "Whenever you are ready."

Mycroft then sat gingerly in the seat that John had vacated, as if it may actually bite him if he actually followed through with his ridiculous notion, in front of his own desk with his notepad and pen as John, now that he was comfortable in Mycroft's chair, looked at everyone who was looking at him expectantly, though John thought Sherlock looked thoughtful and devious, like he did when he was bored. John was going to keep a careful eye on him while he was telling the third part of the story. He didn't think a desk would stop Sherlock. He would probably just be more creative about how he went about interrupting.

"Okay," said John and he sat up in Mycroft's chair, maybe he would get Sherlock to help him _borrow,_ without the intent of returning, the chair, "Well, there was the sound of…"

* * *

**Nineteen hours, fifty minutes before in the bank...**

There was the sound of two gunshots, two thuds, panicked screams and when John looked up from his protective position of Ms. Moore to take stock of the situation, what he saw shocked him.

There was a bullet frozen just inches in front of him and when he looked around the vault he saw that there was another bullet frozen just inches in front of Lestrade and that Sherlock was wiping something from his suit jacket that looked suspiciously like water. It also looked like Harry was muttering something but John wasn't close enough to hear what exactly and Sherlock's body was blocking Harry from further examination from anyone. Did that mean Sherlock stepped in front of Harry?

On John's further exam of the vault, the two thuds were made when Mrs. Dursley had passed out behind her husband and brought down her son with her, who started the panicked screaming with several others joining in.

John looked over at the hostage-takers and would-be murderers and saw that the leader had hung up the phone after the gunshots and was looking at the bullets that were still hanging midair. Even though his face was covered, there was no doubt that his head tilt meant that he was confused as to what had just happened. John could only hold his breath and hope he didn't try again. For some reason, he didn't think he would be lucky a second time.

John watched as the leader turned to one of his colleagues and said, "You brought a water pistol with you?"

"No," said the man, and John realized this was the one that was watching them earlier, "I fired earlier. You heard me and where would I stick an extra gun?"

The leader didn't acknowledge anything that the man had just said. He just took the gun from the man and examined it, ejected the magazine and pulled back the slide. It was real as the remaining bullets were proof enough. So why had it fired water? And what made the bullets freeze? Maybe his employer would know? But first…

The leader walked up to the bullet that was in front of John, plucked it from midair, looked at it, dropped it on the ground where it fell with a thud, looked at John and said, "Did you do that?"

John shook his head, in too much shock to do much else. He had never seen anything like this, not even in Afghanistan.

The leader looked at him before moving over to Lestrade without another word and plucking the bullet from midair, looking at it before dropping it as well.

The leader looked up at Lestrade and said, "Did you do that?"

John watched as a curious look crossed over Lestrade's face but it was gone the next second, and John had to wonder now if he was hallucinating, before Lestrade said, "No." He shook his head as well.

The leader, again, didn't say anything, just left the vault with his comrades, shutting the vault door behind them.

There was a moment of silence in which no one said anything but Lestrade shot Harry a strange look. John couldn't decipher it so after a moment he asked Ms. Moore if she was hurt and she said no. John looked around quickly at everyone to ascertain if anyone had been hurt. It didn't appear so. They were all just in slight shock for the moment except for Mrs. Dursley, who was still out cold, but John didn't think Mr. Dursley would let him touch her, even if to exam her to make sure she was all right.

Then after a minute more of silence, Mrs. Dursley woke up and asked her husband what happened.

"It was the Freak!" said Mr. Dursley pointing at Harry who was still hidden slightly behind Sherlock. "It's all his fault!"

Harry moved a little further behind Sherlock at that pronouncement as if he knew what was to come after that pronouncement.

"What did you do you now, boy?" asked Mrs. Dursley, sounding angry.

Harry moved even further behind Sherlock though closer to the wall away from everyone even Sherlock though Sherlock moved his body, probably again, to block Harry from everyone's view.

John moved closer to Sherlock now as did Lestrade.

"Now hold on," said John.

"You don't know what he's like normally. He does this all the time," said Mr. Dursley and he started to advance towards the three of them in front of Harry.

"He had nothing to do with it," said Lestrade but John and Sherlock could tell there was something in Lestrade's voice that said maybe he didn't believe that one hundred percent but he wasn't worried about it quite as much as Mr. and Mrs. Dursley appeared to be. If anything, he sounded grateful.

"He did!" said Mrs. Dursley and she held tight to her son who looked terrified.

"What makes you think he had something to do with it?" asked Sherlock, standing in front of Harry with an arm behind him on Harry's shoulder to stop him from moving further away from him and in Sherlock's own method of comfort, John realized.

But Mr. Dursley wasn't listening to any of them nor any of the protests coming from any of the other people in the bank with him and he continued to advance towards where all three of them stood in front of Harry.

Sherlock stood in front of them all and said, "If you think I'm going to let you touch the boy in my presence, you are sadly mistaken. He did not have anything to do with what just happened, of that I am sure. Now go back to your wife. You gave up your rights to speak to Harry when you gave him to us to look after."

Lestrade was nodding his agreement to what Sherlock had said and John figured he might as well as stand there and look intimating as Captain Watson, not Doctor Watson, to get him to back off even if John didn't think Sherlock sounded all that sure about Harry not having anything to do with what just happened.

Mr. Dursley, finally, ended up giving the three of them a scathing look before he went back over to his wife muttering about freaks in cloaks coming to investigate, whatever that meant, though Lestrade just snorted.

After Mr. Dursley went back over to his wife and everyone slowly went back to their own thoughts and business, Sherlock, Lestrade and John all turned towards Harry who looked at them nervously, gulping rather noticeably and tugging on his shirt with one hand.

Before any of them could say anything, though, Harry said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it! I just didn't want the first people who were nice to me to die!"

Choosing to ignore the second part of the unnecessary apology until he can properly think it through, preferably with some shooting involved and, glancing at Lestrade's and Sherlock's faces, he knew he would have some company when he did so, John was confused. Harry thought he stopped the two bullets and turned the other into water before it ever left the chamber of the gun though when he glanced over to Lestrade again he was mouthing to himself something about strong accidental something, John couldn't make out the last word. John looked over at Sherlock and realized that he was still looking at Harry.

"What makes you think that what happened to the bullets was your fault?" asked Sherlock to Harry.

Harry shrugged his little shoulder, Sherlock's hand still on it, and said, "I'm a freak. It's always my fault."

He sounded miserable at that and John could only imagine how many times he was told that, and that made him angry.

Before John or Lestrade could correct what Harry had said, Sherlock said, rather forcefully, "No. Harry you are _not_ a freak if, and I'm stressing the if as we do not know for certain you did anything, you can do something that someone else cannot."

John and Lestrade exchanged a look. Perhaps everyone calling him a freak did affect him more than he let on. They had always suspected, especially Lestrade since Sherlock's deductions about Lestrade's team were always vicious once they all heard that hateful word used in regard to Sherlock and John and Lestrade both could only do so much to make them back off.

Harry looked at Sherlock for a long time before he looked at John and Lestrade, who both nodded at him at what Sherlock had said before he nodded his head at what Sherlock had said to him.

"Okay," he said, though John couldn't tell if Harry actually believed what Sherlock had told him or not, but if John knew Sherlock, he would make Harry believe it, just like he made John truly realize his limp was psychosomatic.

* * *

**Mycroft's Office**

"Sherlock, stop throwing biscuits at me," John said calmly as he was hit in the face again and there was a snapping noise heard throughout the room.

Everyone turned to look, slightly incredulously - Lestrade and John, as they thought he had more patience - or gleefully - Sherlock - at Mycroft who calmly threw away the two pieces of his pen and turned to John, wiping his hand of ink on a wet napkin he had pulled from his suit jacket, and said, "Could you please hand me another pen from the top left hand drawer, Doctor Watson?"

John tried it and said, "It's locked."

"My apologies. Try the third drawer from the bottom on the right-hand side," said Mycroft, throwing away the wet napkin now that his hand was cleaned.

John tried it, it opened but since Mycroft was watching him rather closely, he just took out a pen and passed it to Mycroft before shutting the desk drawer.

"Thank you, John," said Mycroft.

John nodded his head.

"Please continue on with the tale," said Mycroft and he moved the plate of biscuits out of reach from his brother, something he should have done after he shoved one down Detective Inspector Lestrade's throat.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at that move and said, "Dull." Though he leaned back in his chair to ponder his next move to get John to stop telling the story before it reached its conclusion.

* * *

**Nineteen hours before in the bank...**

"Yes, sir," said the leader of the bank robbery to his boss into the Bluetooth that was in his ear. "The bullets froze midair and one was turned into water before it even left the gun."

"You don't say," said the other voice, sounding somewhat gleeful.

The leader of the bank robbery knew it was a rhetorical question so he didn't say anything, just waited for his boss to continue.

"Tell me, Freddie, did you see any sticks when you had your men fire their guns?" asked his boss.

"No," said Freddie, confused. What did sticks have to do with anything?

"Hmm… There are children there right? Two of them if I can recall correctly from when you did attendance," said his boss, sounding thoughtful.

"Yes, sir," said Freddie.

"What was the surname?" asked his boss.

Freddie thought for a moment before he said, "I think it was Dursley, sir."

"Of both children?" asked his boss.

Freddie hesitated. It sounded like his boss already knew the answer. "I'm not sure, sir."

"Hmm… Tell me, who were your men aiming at when they fired their guns?" asked his boss, and he didn't sound gleeful anymore. He sounded like he was collecting data to conduct business.

"The copper and the two flatmates," said Freddie.

There was silence on the other end for the moment and it was a tense silence. Freddie felt like he could cut it with a knife.

"Let me get this straight," said his boss and he said this softly, dangerously. "Your men fired bullets at Detective Inspector Lestrade, Doctor John Watson and SHERLOCK HOLMES!" He shouted the last name in anger.

"Yes –" said Freddie and that is as far as he got before he was cut off.

"What was my parting statement to you, Freddie dear," said his boss. He sounded sweet now. Freddie thought that was a danger sign.

Freddie thought for a moment before he said, "Not to harm Sherlock Holmes or Doctor Watson."

"Or the Detective Inspector!" yelled his boss. "I need all three of them alive! And here your men are shooting at them!" His boss continued to yell threats about how he was lucky they weren't actually hurt or all of them would be shoes or worse and the threats went on. Then there was a pause in his yelling.

"But they may not have done it purposely, sir," said Freddie.

"You just said that is who they were aiming at," said his boss dangerously.

"Yes, but the three of them were each protecting someone," said Freddie quickly before his boss could cut him off.

"Protecting someone?" echoed his boss back to him after a moment of very, very tense silence. "Even Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yes," said Freddie, sounding slightly relieved. "He was protecting one of the children."

"Oh, so you and your men are children killers then?" asked his boss.

Freddie didn't know what to say, especially since he knew what his boss actually does and he is far from innocent when it comes to these sorts of things.

"Describe the child to me," said his boss after a moment, apparently having given up for the moment of getting an answer.

Freddie describes the young boy as best as he could. It was hard since he overlooked the boy as unimportant.

"Tell me. Was there also a lightening bolt scar on his forehead?" asked his boss and he sounded positively gleeful, as if all his dreams had come true at once.

Five minutes later, Freddie was relieved to finally be off the phone with his boss, even though he left him floundering at first. The man was scary as were his mood swings. He hoped he didn't make any major mistakes. He glanced up at the windows in the bank. He heard things about his boss's sniper, even if there was little visibility through them because of the blinds, he could apparently make the shot. Freddie was glad the windows were very high up though he wondered if that made much difference to the sniper. Angrily he thought whoever heard of needing sunlight in a bank when you weren't in it that long? Though he could have thought for sure the blinds were closed earlier…

**In the vault...**

"What do you think they are doing out there now?" asked Mr. Knight from his spot against the vault wall.

Sherlock let out a sigh but before he or anyone else could say anything, Harry, surprisingly, let out a giggle and said, "No one thinks, right?"

Sherlock, who was sitting right next to him, said, "Correct Harry. No one thinks."

"Okay, genius," and it wasn't said with praise from Mr. Davis, "what are they doing?"

Sherlock, ignoring how Mr. Davis said 'genius,' said, after letting out a sigh, "Isn't it obvious?"

"No," said everyone, excluding, John, Harry and Lestrade, in a varying degree of tones, some annoyed, some neutral, some like they were going to murder Sherlock (i.e. – the Dursleys).

"Yes," said Harry, nodding his head at Sherlock who sent a brief smile in his direction.

"Frea-" started Mr. Dursley but Sherlock cut him off.

"I do not want to hear that word uttered again, Mr. Dursley," said Sherlock with a scowl directed at him. "Harry has done nothing wrong. He only used his brain which is more than what can be said for everyone else here."

As Mr. Dursley responded back, John and Lestrade couldn't help but stare at Sherlock after they let out a sigh at being insulted. They couldn't remember when Sherlock grew attached, for lack of a better phrase, that quickly to someone.

In fact, Lestrade remembers the last person Sherlock became quickly attached to was John himself. John and Lestrade wondered if Sherlock knew he was becoming attached and starting to care.

They both mentally shook their head and turned back to the conversation, even though it was obvious now that they both missed some points in the conversation as Mr. Dursley was now extremely red in the face, Sherlock looked slightly fascinated as if he wanted to see just how red he could make Mr. Dursley and Harry was sitting rather close to Sherlock.

John, knowing he is one of the few who can derail Sherlock when he is starting an experiment, said to Sherlock, "Sherlock, just explain _how_ it is obvious what the hostage-takers are doing now." John couldn't help the slight exasperation that slipped onto his face. The concrete in the floor wasn't good for his aches, psychosomatic or not. He was going to be stiff when this was all over and they were only a few hours into.

Sherlock looked over at John, eyes assessing his well-being, though he would never admit it out loud to anyone, let alone John, as he knew how John's wounds acted up on concrete floors, before he decided not to argue and said, "He went to call his boss to find out if he saw anything like this before and to see if his boss can help and to make sure that if they fire their guns again, they'll work."

"How can you possibly know that?" asked Ms. Moore. She sounded curious.

"It is the only reason why someone like him, someone who is already proven to be quick to shoot and to show his power, would leave all the hostages alive after saying to the person on the other end of the phone that he was going to kill three of us," responded Sherlock.

Everyone pondered that for a moment before Lestrade asked, "Do you think they will be back to kill the three?"

John thought he needed to know so that he could try to protect them, no matter how fruitless it may seem to be.

Sherlock was silent for a moment as everyone watched him, waiting for his answer as his hand rubbed at his stomach, his eyes slid silently towards Harry, before he said, "No." He looked back at John then Lestrade and said, again, "No, I don't think so."

Regardless of the fact that Sherlock just repeated himself, something that he hated, the tone of Sherlock's voice alerted John that he may not be telling the complete truth. Maybe he did listen to Mr. Knight when he said not to be so unreassuring in front of children. Though John was curious about why Sherlock kept rubbing his stomach. Was he getting sick?

Everyone was silent as they pondered what Sherlock had said, some reading between the lines of what he said, others believing what he said, the idiots.

Before they knew it another hour had passed and still no one had said a word after Sherlock had finished speaking, not even Sherlock and they were all sitting around in the vault.

Suddenly the other child, and John wasn't sure if his name was said or if he just didn't hear it spoken, said, "I'm hungry and I'm missing my favorite television show!" That sounded like a whine actually.

John leaned his head against the wall, he was sitting between Sherlock and Lestrade, and he hoped the child didn't do that long.

"Mummy? Did you hear me? I'm hungry and I'm missing my favorite television show! I want to watch it! Make them let me watch it and feed me!"

John lifted his head up and looked at Lestrade who looked at John incredulous before he stared incredulously at the child. The child couldn't honestly expect to eat something and watch telly in the middle of a hostage situation, could he?

"Darling, be quiet now," said Mrs. Dursley while Mr. Dursley didn't bother to acknowledge anything his son said.

John looked at Sherlock who didn't bother to look at him as he was engrossed thinking, going by his hand movements, he was probably back in his mind palace. John looked over at Harry who just looked like he couldn't believe his cousin.

"No Mummy! It's four in the afternoon and my favorite show is on and it's time for my snack before supper!" said the child.

Now John was confused. Don't most people eat supper at around five o'clock? He was pretty sure it was the recommended time to eat if you were going to be on a schedule and not live with a hectic schedule like his.

"Shh, Dudley. You'll get your snack when we get home. I'm sorry but you can't watch your show right now," said Mrs. Dursley, trying to soothe her child while Mr. Dursley glared at everyone who was staring at his family incredulously. They had no right to judge his family. The nerve of them.

John saw great, big crocodile tears start to fall down the child's, Dudley's, face at that. If John had to guess going by everything that Harry wasn't saying and the way he was acting, Dudley was never denied anything in his life. This must be a crushing blow to the little boy and everyone was going to have to suffer his crying.

"Oh do make your boy be quiet," said Sherlock after a few minutes, coming out of his mind palace, rather abruptly.

"Why I never –" said Mrs. Dursley while Mr. Dursley went red in the face again. John decided that must be his default setting when angry.

"He is going to attract the attention of the hostage-takers. If you want them to come in here then, by all means, let him continue to cry and draw their attention right to him," said Sherlock.

What Sherlock said didn't seem to help stop Dudley crying at all though it was the first thing that Sherlock said that Mr. and Mrs. Dursley listened to without complaint.

"Dudley Vernon Dursley, you stop right now. Do you want to make those men come back in?" asked Mrs. Dursley shrilly as she gripped her son tight and held him to her close.

There was a moment where it didn't seem like he was going to stop, but finally, Dudley stopped crying, although John and probably everyone else in the vault could tell it was fake, except his own parents.

There was a moment of silence before there was the sound of chuckling coming from the student, James Morgan.

"What's so funny?" asked Mr. Dursley, slightly stand-offish.

"Mate, you named your kid after DVDs. His initials are DVD," said James Morgan and he continued to laugh.

Now John could see the humor in that. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley seemed like straight-laced people and they probably didn't even realize what they did, which made it even funnier. He grinned but he was old enough not to laugh.

Until he looked at Sherlock and saw he was fighting a grin. They caught each other's eye and they both burst out laughing which caused a domino effect in almost everyone in the vault excluding very obviously Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, who scowled as that was a good, strong name, and Dudley who looked shocked at the laughter, not quite understanding. Even Harry let out a few chuckles though he was laughing because everyone except the Dursleys were.

James Morgan looked at Mr. Dursley and saw his red face and said, still chuckling slightly, "Don't be like that, mate. I think it's cool."

Everyone let their chuckles slowly taper off after that comment but it felt nice to have a semi-lighthearted moment in the very tense situation especially since they weren't making fun of anyone, just the circumstances since picking on children was wrong, especially by adults. John was a firm believer of that. If anything, they were making fun of Mr. and Mrs. Dursley for picking the name to begin with, not Dudley.

As soon as the last person finished laughing it was as though it was a cue for the hostage-takers to come back into the vault causing the lighthearted moment to vanish just as soon as it arrived.

The leader looked at everyone while his men stood slightly spread out in the vault with their guns pointed in no particular direction. Everyone tensed though Sherlock just watched them appearing as relaxed and unfazed as before they walked in.

After a moment of tense silence, in which the leader was glad that he could make some people as tense as his boss made him, the leader said, "What is all the commotion going on in here?"

No one wanted to answer him. John looked at Sherlock again and was surprised, though not if he thought about it, to see a small smirk starting on his face as he watched the leader.

"Someone had better answer me," said the leader after another minute.

Mr. Hunt decided to answer, "It was nothing. The children are hungry."

John could understand why he grouped the kids together. Harry looks like he could definitely stand to eat more food than what he is getting.

"That explains the wailing I heard. What about the laughter?" said the leader.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, John closed his in anticipation, and said, "Obviously, someone said something funny."

The leader's hand clenched but that was all he did before he took out the phone and spoke into it.

"Yeah, I'm going to need some food while I'm waiting for my way outta here. It better be safe. We're not gonna be the only ones eating it," said the leader to the hostage negotiator.

That was the last everyone in the vault heard before the vault door was shut and they were left alone.

"What had you so pleased when the hostage-takers walked in?" asked Lestrade almost as soon as the hostage-takers left them alone again but quietly so no one overheard. People tended to panic when Sherlock answered anything.

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Sherlock, quiet as well.

John just looked at him, Harry shook his head and Lestrade said, "No."

Sherlock let out a long suffering sigh as if he did not know why he kept himself surrounded by idiots though he patted Harry's arm as if to let him know it was okay, that he would learn and not all hope was lost for him, before he said, "Obviously his phone call did not go well with his boss."

"How do you know that?" asked John, curiously while Lestrade raised an eyebrow and Harry looked like he was very interested in what he was saying.

"When they came in, the leader, he shot the three of us a look as if he were blaming us for something. The leader practically said if there was any commotion regardless of who was the cause he would shoot either you, John, or you, Lestrade. Either his boss does not want any of us hurt, specifically, or he does not want any killings at all. Plus did you notice they did not point their guns at anyone when they came in? That was the first time they did not," said Sherlock very quickly.

John and Lestrade thought about what Sherlock said in silence for a moment while Harry looked at Sherlock in awe.

After a moment, John said, "You know who the leader's boss is, don't you?"

"An inkling. Nothing more," responded Sherlock.

"Who?" asked Lestrade.

Sherlock didn't bother to respond and Lestrade let out a sigh.

Everyone fell silent after that and John saw that Harry wanted to ask how Sherlock did what he did but wasn't going to. John looked at Sherlock as well and could tell at once why Harry wasn't asking. Sherlock's eyes were closed and he was in what John dubbed his 'thinking' pose.

John felt like he needed to explain to Harry. He didn't want the boy to stop asking questions or be afraid to ask questions.

"You can ask him when he's finished, Harry. I'm sure he won't mind explaining it to you," said John with a small smile.

Harry looked at John and gave him a smile and Sherlock let out a noise that was in agreement as he was apparently listening to everything still going on around him even if he was thinking inward. Of course, he would know what they were talking about and Harry's grin grew bigger. Harry obviously had grown an attachment to Sherlock in a very short amount of time as well. John thought it was remarkable.

They all lapsed into a comfortable silence after that and before they knew it another hour had passed and John couldn't help but wonder if hostage situations were always so boring and then he wondered if Sherlock was rubbing off on him. That thought sounded awfully like him.

But then they spent most of their time so far in the vault and not being threatened, which was good except for that minor hiccup with the bullets being shot at them, but John lived for the rush of the adrenaline. He loved it in these situations even though he would never admit it and he couldn't help but find himself bored with the proceedings slightly. After all, this was his first honest to goodness bank hold up and he felt like he was missing all the action by being shoved in a vault. He mentally shook his head at that thought. He really was channeling Sherlock.

At that thought, the vault opened again and the hostage-takers walked back in. Everyone turned to look at them.

The leader was looking at each of them as if he was assessing them all for something. Finally, he obviously found what he was looking for because he started to head in the direction of where Sherlock, John, Harry and Lestrade were sitting and right up to Harry, picking him up without a pause in his movement. That action in turned caused Sherlock, John and Lestrade to stand up and the rest of the hostage-takers to point their guns at the three of them.

The leader didn't spare them a glance. He just continued to stare at Harry, who was extremely tense in the man's arms. After a moment, the leader balanced Harry with one hand and using the other moved Harry's bangs off his forehead as if he were looking for something hidden beneath them.

The leader stared at Harry's forehead for a moment and John saw Sherlock's eye narrow out of the corner of his eye. There was obviously something on Harry's forehead that had a significance that none of them noticed and John saw Sherlock mouth, "there's always something." So obviously Sherlock didn't see what was on his forehead either. Harry's bangs must have been hiding them which was surprising considering how messy his hair is.

The leader then looked at the three of them and said, "Oh stop with the looks. I'm not hurting the brat. Which leads me to question, why is he even over here to begin with when he came with that family?" The leader pointed over to the Dursley family.

There was silence at that question and no one seemed to want to answer it.

After a moment of silence, the leader said, "You know what, it doesn't matter anyways as long as someone is keeping him out of trouble."

John noticed the leader's eyes go to Sherlock at that statement.

"I need volunteers to go get the food and I'm going to pick them now," said the leader, still holding onto Harry, who's forehead was now visible and everyone could see a lighting bolt scar, though the leader had set Harry down onto the floor, holding on to him with his left hand with his gun in his right. He looked at everyone standing in the vault.

"Are you going to let the boy go?" asked Sherlock and John could tell he was resisting putting his hand on his stomach. John wasn't sure what he was more concerned with now at the moment, the fact that someone had a gun close to little Harry's head or the fact that Sherlock was choosing a very inconvenient time to fall ill. He should just go with both and save himself the trouble.

Surprisingly the leader answered him and said, "No. I need to make sure whoever I take listens. Everyone listens when a child is suddenly in danger."

He continued to scan the room until he pointed at Ms. Moore and said, "You." One of his fellow hostage-takers grabbed her arm. The leader then pointed at John and said, "And you." Another of the hostage-takers grabbed John's arm and brought him over to the vault door to stand by Ms. Moore.

"We'll be back in with the food," said the leader and he walked out the vault with Harry walking quickly to keep up with him though John could see Harry glancing over his shoulder to look at where Sherlock and Lestrade were standing and John, himself, looked at them before he was pulled out of the vault and it was closed shut.

John really wanted to double check the look on Sherlock's face though. John could have thought Sherlock looked concerned and Lestrade had a hand on his shoulder as if he were holding Sherlock back.

The man holding his arm, unless it was a very unfortunate woman and damn was Sherlock rubbing off him, led him away from the vault and stood him in front of the teller counter beside Ms. Moore, Harry, his scar still visible, still in the leader's arm. John had to wonder what this had to do with them getting the food.

"Before we get the food, I've negotiated a trade for it. One hostage for the food and drinks. Out of the hostages that I have out of the vault, which one should I trade for the food? Answer one at a time now starting with you, Army Doctor," said the leader looking at him.

John, almost without thinking about it, said, "Harry." He nodded at the boy in his arm.

The leader didn't say anything, just turned to Ms. Moore, who said, "Harry," also nodding at the boy in his arm.

The leader looked at them, before looking at the boy in his arm, before nodding and saying, "That settles it then. Ms. Moore, after you get the food from the coppers that bring it in, I've watched enough telly to know it won't actually be the delivery guys, you are free to leave with them."

"Now wait a moment," started John and Ms. Moore, together.

"No," said the leader. "I took your opinions into consideration before I made my decision and I've decided Ms. Moore will leave. Children are better hostages, anyway. No one wants to hurt them."

John and Ms. Moore were silent before there was a sudden knocking sound on the door.

"Let's move," said the leader and he pulled Harry towards the door as two others pulled John and Ms. Moore towards the door and the last one covered them.

"Army Doctor," said the leader and John looked over at him when they stopped by the door. "Open the door and let them in."

The man who was pulling him, led John to the door and with his gun in his back, John opened the door to let in the two delivery people who happened to be Sergeant Donovan, and John had to wonder when she got back from the crime scene she was at, and another that John had seen at crime scenes but didn't know on any name basis.

Once they were in the bank fully, John was told to shut the door which he did and he was pulled back further with everyone else.

The leader with his gun pointed at Harry then looked at Sergeant Donovan, who appeared to be in charge of the two who stepped in the bank, and said, "Take the food over to the teller counter and set it down."

Sergeant Donovan nodded once along with her associate without looking at John, the least he needed was for these men to think he had police connections, and they walked over to the teller counter and set down the pizza boxes that they were carrying and what looked like a couple of bags full of cans of fizzy drinks.

Once they were done with that, Sergeant Donovan and her associate turned to look at the leader who was watching them carefully and said, "You can take Ms. Moore with you on your way out."

Sergeant Donovan frowned slightly and said, "Why don't you let the child go?"

The leader brought up his gun to point in the direction of Sergeant Donovan and said, "Because I've decided to let Ms. Moore go. Now you two better leave and take Ms. Moore before we can add two more hostages to the rest of them."

"Army Doctor," John tensed at that, "You can let them out and remember you three, he will have a gun to his back and I will have a gun to the child. Ms. Moore, you are free to go."

"Wait," said Sergeant Donovan, and the leader sighed but it didn't seem as if Sergeant Donovan was going to give in and leave. She just crossed her arms and waited for the leader to acknowledge her.

"What?" said the leader, sounding annoyed.

"Does anyone need medical attention? There were the gunshots after all and I was told to ask," said Sergeant Donovan.

"No," said the leader. "Now leave." He nodded to his accomplice who gave Ms. Moore a slight shove in the direction of Sergeant Donovan and her associate and they all started to head towards the door out of the bank. Once they were all out the door, John shut it and locked it when directed.

He was then pulled back towards the others, back to the teller counter, where the food was.

The leader then addressed both John and Harry, who the leader finally let go and was now standing next to John, and said, "I want you both to take all but two boxes of pizzas and two twelve packs of fizzy drinks into the vault with you. You, Army Doctor, can take the pizzas, and you, kid, can take the fizzy drinks."

John looked at Harry, then all the fizzy drinks and said, "There is no way he's going to be able to carry all those by himself. He's five." John was being generous. He did not know how old Harry was for sure as Harry didn't say and Sherlock didn't deduce out loud for everyone.

The leader looked at the both of them for a moment before he said, "Then you can carry what he can't along with the pizza."

"Fine," said John simply.

"I wasn't asking," said the leader, "I was telling or else what the boy takes in is all everyone gets to drinks. How pleased do you think everyone would be then if they only had to split just one of the bags that have the cans of fizzy drinks?"

John didn't answer and it didn't sound like the leader wanted one anyways.

"Let's go," said the leader.

John waited until the leader had one of his men take out their stuff first before he gave Harry the lighter bag of fizzy drinks which Harry took with a slight amount of difficulty. John then put his arm in the hole of the bag of the second bag and then picked up the boxes with a slight amount of difficulty with balancing everything.

"Move," said the leader gesturing for John and Harry to start walking back to the vault which they did though carefully in John's case so he didn't drop anything.

The leader opened the vault, let them walk in and shut it without going in with them, leaving it to John to explain.

When John looked up, he saw that Sherlock was in the same position as he was when they left and now that he knew that it was only the two of them, he was making his way over to them, shaking Lestrade's hand off his shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he asked them both.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said John as he debated about where to put the pizza boxes, anywhere on the floor or in the middle of the floor specifically.

"Harry? Are you all right?" Sherlock asked Harry after he didn't get an answer and he must have been worried because he asked again.

John looked at Harry and saw that Harry nodded his head.

"That's good," said Sherlock nodding his head. "Good," he repeated himself and John knew he only did that when he was worked up about something.

"Where's Ms. Moore?" asked Mr. Hunt, worried about his employee.

John decided to set the pizza and the drinks in the middle of the vault as it was easier for everyone to get to, before he answered, "They decided to let her go." He set them down before taking the drinks carefully from Harry. He decided not to say anything about how tightly Harry was holding the bag which went to show how scared he had been. John thought he was holding up very well for the situation he was in. Very well indeed.

"What? Why not someone else? Why her?" asked Mrs. Dursley as Mr. Hunt nodded relieved.

John ignored her and continued explaining, "We tried to get the leader to release Harry but he said no."

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley snorted and John could have sworn he heard something being said but he wasn't sure what though judging by Sherlock's expression it probably wasn't anything good or polite.

Sherlock looked at John and said, "Sergeant Donovan and someone you didn't know delivered the food."

Lestrade looked at John at that.

"How did you know?" asked John, nodding his head.

"You have the same expression on your face that you usually do when you have to deal with her when she is being stubborn," said Sherlock.

"She's supposed to be working on another case," said Lestrade, somewhat needlessly.

"When they realized you were a hostage as well they probably called her in. They probably aren't happy to have confirmation that John was in the bank because that means I'm in the bank as well," said Sherlock.

"Why?" asked Harry, sounding innocently curious.

Sherlock opened his mouth to give a scathing remark as usual but John cut him off by saying, "They're just jealous that Sherlock is smarter than them mostly. Right Lestrade?"

"Right," said Lestrade, nodding his head, and it was mostly true, though another part of it, okay a big part of it was Sherlock's attitude towards them but Harry didn't need to know it right now.

Harry looked at them all suspiciously for a moment but then he nodded his head at what he was told.

"Let's get some pizza and something to drink," said John. "Too bad we couldn't get any tea. I could use a cuppa."

"We're in the middle of a hostage situation," said Lestrade as he took a piece of pizza and a can of fizzy drink, "And you act like you could drink a cup of tea like you're at home."

"We've been stuck in a vault for most of the time. It's mostly boring with a few hiccups," said John with a shrug as he took some pizza and a can of fizzy drink after some of the other hostages.

"You've been around Sherlock too long," said Lestrade shaking his head fondly at them.

Sherlock let out an indignant huff at that, John invaded Afghanistan after all, but he helped Harry, seemingly without thinking about it, taking out two pieces of pizza to put on his plate, apparently he thought Harry needed to eat, and then he held Harry's drink for him along with one for himself.

John looked at Sherlock very pointedly though and Sherlock rearranged the drinks so he could pick up a plate with a piece of pizza on it so he could eat as well.

The four of them then moved over to the corner that they claimed as their own and sat down and ate.

As everyone sat down and ate, Mr. Davis said, "Do you think we should try to do something? To fight them so we can leave? There are more of us."

Sherlock snorted and said, "Idiot."

Mr. Davis let out a what he thought was a sneer but was actually a grimace and said, "And why not?"

"For one, they showed good faith, if you were, by releasing one hostage already," said Lestrade, though John didn't really see what that had to do with anything but he had a point, "Plus the cops really do not like it when civilians try to make themselves heroes in these types of situations. You always end up getting hurt."

"Then why don't you do it?" asked Mr. Dursley, somewhat nastily to Lestrade and John had to wonder if the man was always unpleasant or only to those who showed his nephew kindness.

"For another, as it was already pointed out to you, the vault only opens from the outside. You can't open it from the inside, though I'm sure after all this over, Mycroft will fix that for this bank and probably all others. Which reminds me, John. You should tell Mr. Hunt that you will no longer be a customer here after we get out of here," said Sherlock.

Mr. Hunt spluttered while John just nodded his head resignedly. He knew that there was no way he could argue with Sherlock on this as Sherlock could make his life hell at the flat. He shuddered to think about the random spare parts he could possibly find if he didn't agree.

Mr. Hunt, angrily, said, "You can't decide that for him!"

Lestrade snorted and John couldn't help but chuckle along with him. The poor, naive man. Sherlock stared at him like he was Anderson and he said something extremely stupid.

"Anyways," said Mr. Davis, "Is there any other reasons why we shouldn't just rush them when they open the vault the next time?"

"How about the fact that they have guns?" said John mildly.

"Or the fact that there are children?" said Lestrade.

"It's a stupid plan," said Sherlock. "Mycroft will sort this out within the next," Sherlock checked his watch, "fifteen hours, if not sooner. He just has to make some phone calls and mobilize whoever. Your colleagues are somewhat inept for this, Detective Inspector."

Lestrade just sighed but he didn't argue, knowing what the older Holmes could do.

"Who is this Mycroft? And what can he do?" asked Mr. Jackson.

Sherlock just grimaced slightly but didn't say anything.

John, knowing that their relationship should probably stay secret and what Mycroft's job is as well, said, "Someone who can help and who," he pretended to search for a word for a moment, "worries constantly about his arch enemy."

"Very funny, John," said Sherlock, drily, while Lestrade grinned and Harry watched them closely as he ate his pizza, but still keeping an eye on his relatives in case they told him not to eat.

Everyone in the bank looked confused at the inside joke they were sharing.

"So your answer, Mr. Davis and everyone else, is no. We shouldn't do anything. That would just be stupid. We should just hope that Scotland Yard can stall them long enough and not make any mistakes until, for lack of a better phrase of words, Special Forces can get here," said Sherlock.

Mr. Davis just grunted and finished up his pizza in silence as did everyone else.

When he was finished, John looked at Sherlock and said, "You have another reason too don't you? You don't like relying on Mycroft for anything more than you have to."

Sherlock looked at John and said, "You must be getting better at observing."

John snorted and said, "No, just knowing you a little bit better. So what is it?"

Making sure that Lestrade and Harry were engaged in a conversation so they could not overhear the conversation as Lestrade didn't know about Sherlock's fan yet, Sherlock said, "I've already concluded that the person acting like the leader here isn't the actual leader. Maybe if it drags out long enough, the actual leader will show themselves."

"You want to know if it's your fan? The one that goes by Moriarty?" asked John. Sherlock had explained the bare minimum to him over Chinese that night.

Sherlock nodded once and John sighed.

"What?" asked Sherlock.

"Isn't there another way you could go about finding out who he is?"

Sherlock scoffed and said, "Think, John. This Moriarty person or group of people were smart enough to contract a cabbie to kill for them to get my attention for themselves. It is going to be difficult to contact them on my own."

John looked mildly alarmed and said, "You want to contact them?"

Sherlock just looked at him but before he could answer, Lestrade said, "What're you two talking about over there?"

"The weather inside the vault," said Sherlock drily.

"You could always tell me to mind my own business," said Lestrade with a scowl directed at Sherlock.

"Hmm, dull," responded Sherlock.

Lestrade shook his head while Harry chuckled, finding their interactions amusing.

Sherlock asked Harry if he wanted to learn how to make a mind palace some more and Harry eagerly nodded his head. He obviously didn't want to be plagued by those nightmares anymore and John looked Lestrade and could tell that he was planning on looking up how Harry's parents died.

While Sherlock was instructing Harry, John and Lestrade spent the next hour talking about the game that was on in the pub the other night. They didn't set out to meet each other there that night, it was a lucky happenstance. One that they planned to repeat next week - case and murder permitting - as they enjoyed themselves.

After that peaceful hour passed, however, it was interrupted by the Dursley's child saying, rather loudly to his mother, "Mummy, I have to go to the bathroom."

John glanced over and saw all the fizzy drink cans that were around the boy. He probably shouldn't have drank that many and his parents shouldn't have let him when they were trapped in a vault but who was John to criticize a parent?

"Shh, Duddy, you have to hold it for right now," said Mrs. Dursley, trying to be quiet. She obviously didn't want to attract the attention of the hostage-takers again, especially so soon.

"No! I have to go," said Dudley and to the misfortune of everyone in the vault, he started to cry again, though thankfully, it wasn't the loud sobs from before. He had obviously learned a little from what happened before but not much as he still decided to cry.

For the next half hour, Mrs. Dursley tried to calm down her son along with Mr. Dursley and everyone else pretended that they couldn't hear them and continued with what they were doing before they were interrupted.

However, after Sherlock had his concentration broken for a third time after a particularly loud wail, his patience waned and he had to say something though he wasn't the only one wincing anymore.

"Mrs. Dursley," started Sherlock, sounding very pleasant, he normally was very patient with children but this whole family put his teeth on edge, "You need to calm him down."

"What the bloody hell do you think we are trying to do? If he could go to the bathroom, it wouldn't be a problem," said Mr. Dursley.

John could tell that Sherlock was refraining from sighing. Sherlock wasn't even talking to him.

"He is not the only one who has to go," said Sherlock.

Everyone looked at him.

Sherlock really did sigh this time before he said, "There are quite a few of you shifting in your seats. It could be from sitting on the ground but judging by your movements, how often you are moving, how long we've been in here so far, the fact that we've just had more drinks added to our systems, it's obvious that almost everyone in here has to go."

"Dudley is just a child," said Mr. Dursley, daring Sherlock to say anything.

"Harry is younger than your child and has to go as well but you don't hear him saying anything nor crying as much as your son," said Sherlock with narrowed eyes.

"And he won't if he knows what's good for him," mumbled Mr. Dursley.

"Vernon," muttered Mrs. Dursley, obviously tired of her husband trying to pick a fight with everyone and slightly frazzled by her son's crying at this point.

Mr. Dursley let out a noise and crossed his arms across his chest but he didn't say anything more.

"You still have to make him be quiet," said Sherlock.

"Wait a second," said James. "The last time he cried they fed us, maybe if he cried louder, they'll let us out to go to the bathroom."

"Or maybe they'll shoot us all," deadpanned Sherlock.

"They didn't manage it the first time they tried," said Mr. Hunt trying to make an argument. "I think we should risk."

"They weren't shooting at you either, were they?" said Sherlock.

"No," added Lestrade and he sounded panicky.

"Why?" asked Mr. Wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We shouldn't antagonize them," said John, trying to calm down all the emotions that were starting to run high.

"No one put the three of you in charge of us," said Mr. Davis.

"You do seem to be winding everyone up," put in Mr. Knight, who had been relatively quiet, up until that point.

And then suddenly everyone was arguing with everyone else, which coincidentally made Dudley be quite, with insults being thrown around, voices overlapping. The only ones that were silent were Harry and Dudley and they were watching everyone with wide eyes, for once, in agreement with each other on what was going on.

After ten minutes of arguments, the sound of the vault opening, shut everyone up and they turned, as they all had stood up when they were arguing, to look at the vault.

"What the bloody hell is going on in here?" asked the leader angrily.

Everyone was silent for an awkward minute.

"I want an answer right now," said the leader. He pointed his gun at John but addressed Sherlock and said, "You, Mr. Holmes, tell me what happened."

Sherlock sniffed like he was extremely put out, and John noticed that he was standing in front of Harry, and he wondered if Sherlock was aware of doing it or if was subconscious as he keeps doing it.

However, Sherlock said, "We had a slight disagreement on how to get your attention so that we could use the restrooms."

The leader paused for a moment, slightly thrown, as if that situation hadn't occurred to him before he said, "Who has to go?" He was still addressing Sherlock.

"Everyone," said Sherlock, succinctly and straight to the point.

The leader moved the gun over to Mr. Hunt, who backed away slightly from it, and said, "How many loos are there in the bank?"

"J-Just two," said Mr. Hunt with a slight stutter. The gun was making him nervous especially after the leader's associates fired theirs in the vault already.

The leader nodded and said, "Fine. Will go in twos, starting with the two youngest."

"No," said Mrs. Dursley at once.

There was silence before the leader turned towards Mrs. Dursley and said, "No?"

"No. Dudley isn't going by himself with you," said Mrs. Dursley, holding onto her son tight.

John couldn't help but frown slightly in her direction as she didn't even give a thought to her nephew when he was pulled out of the vault at gunpoint.

"Can he use the loo by himself?" asked the leader.

Mrs. Dursley nodded her head once.

"Then you don't get a choice," said the leader and he nodded to two of his accomplices who walked up to both Dudley and Harry and picked them both up, Dudley with slight difficulty due to his size. This time, John felt Sherlock tense up and move his arm over his stomach slightly which caused John to pause for a minute. Maybe, Sherlock wasn't sick. Maybe he was worried?

"We'll be back when they are finished," said the leader and they left, shutting the vault.

"Are you okay?" asked John to Sherlock.

"I am not the one who is with the trigger happy hostage-takers, John, as I told Lestrade when you were gone. So the answer to your question is, I am fine," replied Sherlock.

"You're worried about Harry," said John simply.

"And yet I have no idea why as I've barely known him a few hours," said Sherlock.

"You've made a connection to him. It happens," said Lestrade simply though it looked as if he may have some more information on it though he did not look inclined to share yet.

Sherlock didn't bother to acknowledge what Lestrade said past a slight inclination of his head and the three of them waited in silence while Mrs. Dursley watched the door, talking her husband's ear off about how they took her baby from her and how they might be hurting him.

Five minutes later the vault opened and Dudley and Harry walked in, having obviously been put down at some point. Dudley walked straight into his mother's arms while Harry returned to stand beside Sherlock, John and Lestrade. Sherlock immediately put his hand on his shoulder as if to comfort him, the move seemingly unconscious on his part, and he felt Harry shaking slightly from nerves. Sherlock squeezed once in comfort.

"Mr. Hunt, Mr. Knight, you are up next," said the leader and his two accomplices pointed their guns at them.

Mr. Hunt and Mr. Knight walked out of the vault, but this time, the leader left his other accomplice at the door to watch the rest of them so he didn't have to keep on opening and closing the vault door.

Five minutes later, just the leader and his accomplices came back.

"Where are Mr. Hunt and Mr. Knight?" asked Mr. Jackson, sounding worried that something happened to them.

The leader looked at him and said, "They have been released in good faith. Though if Scotland Yard doesn't hold their end of the deal…" He trailed off on purpose and everyone understood the implications, except perhaps the two children though judging by their pale faces they understood it just fine.

"Mr. Dursley, Mr. Morgan, you are up next," said the leader and his accomplices, again, pointed their guns at them as they walked out of the vault, the other accomplice standing in front of the vault door watching everyone else.

Then five minutes later they were back and then Mr. Davis and Mrs. Dursley went. Five minutes later they came back and Mr. Jackson and John went (Sherlock was tense the whole time John was gone). Five minutes later they came back and Mr. Wall and Lestrade went (Sherlock, again, was tense the whole time Lestrade was gone, much to his own surprise).

At last five minutes passed and then, "Mr. Holmes, you are the last one. Let's go," said the leader and Sherlock walked out of the vault, his trip to the restroom, uneventful.

Once he returned to the vault, the leader said, "That is the only time you get to go for the evening. So I wouldn't drink any more drinks the rest of the night," he looked over at the Dursleys, "this vault is going to stay shut now until morning unless Scotland Yard decides not to follow through with their promises. Try to behave and not make me come back in here. You won't like or enjoy the consequences otherwise."

The leader and his accomplices left the vault and shut it behind them, leaving everyone in silence for a few minutes.

Then Harry asked, "Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" was the reply as Sherlock turned to look at Harry.

"Can we do more learning for the mind palace?"

Sherlock thought for a moment before he said, "You can't do too much in one day, Harry. Especially for a beginner. You will tire yourself out."

Harry nodded his head and they sunk back into a silence again for a couple of more minutes before Harry needed to ask another question, this time to all three of them.

"Do you think I stopped the bullets earlier?" Harry tried to look at all three of them at once to gauge their response.

"I thought we discussed this earlier?" asked John, sounding slightly confused.

Lestrade didn't say anything he was watching Sherlock and John for their reactions.

"What brought this on?" asked Sherlock, not sure if he was supposed to offer comfort or something else. He was with John on this one. He thought they covered this already.

Harry shrugged and said, "Dudley said something when we went to the bathroom."

"What did he say?" asked Lestrade.

Harry shrugged again and didn't say anything.

Sherlock, John and Lestrade all exchanged a look before John said, "Harry, if you did do something, we are grateful as we would be a lot more hurt if you hadn't and this situation would be going differently for sure."

"It definitely would be," said Sherlock and Lestrade nodded his head in agreement.

Harry looked at them relieved and they spent the next couple of hours talking about lighthearted things and Sherlock mapped out Harry's learning for making his own mind palace, though he would have to call it something else as apparently only Sherlock's brain could be called mind palace. It didn't even seem to enter Sherlock's mind that Harry was going to have to go back with the Dursleys so he would not be able to learn the rest of it. It seemed to John and Lestrade like Sherlock had already claimed guardianship of Harry.

Finally at ten o'clock at night, according to John's wristwatch, Harry fell into an uneasy sleep next to Sherlock, with his head against the wall of the vault.

Sherlock, John and Lestrade looked at Harry for a moment before Lestrade said, "You should move him into a more comfortable position. That's probably not very comfortable for him."

"What would be more comfortable for him?" asked Sherlock, raising an eyebrow at him.

Lestrade raised an eyebrow and said, "Laying him flat for one and probably letting him use something for a pillow."

"Hmm," said Sherlock and he looked at Harry before he looked at John and Lestrade for a few minutes before he said, "Take off your jacket Lestrade."

"Why?" asked Lestrade though he was already taking off his jacket.

"You said Harry needs a pillow and you are the only one of the three of us that has something to spare for him as you have your suit jacket on underneath," responded Sherlock.

Lestrade passed his jacket over to Sherlock, who rolled it up, slid Harry forward a bit, tucked the jacket into his own side before laying Harry flat with his head on the jacket.

After a moment of silence, Sherlock asked, "So this murder scene you wanted me to look at earlier today, you said it was probably related to others you were working on?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah. I didn't get a chance to look at the scene myself before I came and got you so we will probably have to look photos when we get out of here," responded Lestrade with a yawn.

"Hopefully Anderson didn't ruin anything," said Sherlock and John shook his head at that comment.

Lestrade sighed as if he heard this too often for his liking and said, "Anderson knows how to do his job, Sherlock."

"That remains to be seen," said Sherlock.

As that conversation was carrying on after Harry fell asleep, the others started dropping off and when Lestrade, himself, fell asleep after they had finished their conversation, at ten forty-five only John and Sherlock were left awake. They both sat in a comfortable silence and they could almost pretend they were back at their flat after a busy day at solving a case, if they weren't both sitting in a vault that was.

"Go to sleep, John," said Sherlock and John could tell when Sherlock was making a retreat into his mind palace to think, especially since that is the only escape that Sherlock had in the vault.

John only shook his head and tried to get into a more comfortable position and finally, at midnight, according to his watch, he fell asleep with his head laying on the back of the vault. He really hoped this was resolved soon and that was his last thought before he fell asleep.

Five hours later and he abruptly awoke at five o'clock in the morning according to his watch and looking around, only Sherlock was awake, the same as when he went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: So this chapter was initially going to be longer, yes longer, as I was going to finish the bank scene entirely this chapter, I was already up to about 13,000 but as you can see I decided to split the chapter... It was getting just a little too long for me, so the next chapter will tie up everything in the bank and then we will find out what happens next! :) The next chapter is already half way done, by the way so you won't have to wait too long before you find out how everything in the bank was resolved.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter. 
> 
> Beta: Lady of the Shards

Chapter 7

**Undisclosed location, five hours before in the bank…**

"Daddy's had enough," said the man, sounding annoyed, watching the security camera but speaking to the man that was standing in front of his desk.

"Sir?" said the man standing in front of the desk.

"These men are idiots. They'll never work out. You need to finish this. You know who your targets are," said the man still annoyed and watching the security camera footage that he had hacked which was so simple a child could have done it. They also had no creativity which would not do in his network.

"Yes, sir," said the man grinning, shouldering his weapon that had been laying casually on the chair in front of his boss' desk.

"Don't forget the note," said the man in the chair, sounding absentminded now.

The man with the rifle took the note from his boss' desk and left the room.

The man sitting in the chair leaned back in it and continued to watch the scene unfold while thinking about what Sherlock's reaction would be to the note if he got to see it. His big brother certainly was a pain.

Then his mind went to the child, Harry Potter, who was going to be his next target, having been hired by a, well, the man didn't think he could actually say the word to himself without giggling but if Sherlock has become attached to him, he could put off getting rid of him for the moment. At least until his game with Sherlock was over. He was changeable after all. Yes, that is what he would do. Satisfied with his new game plan, the man turned back to watch his computer screen to watch what was happening in the bank.

* * *

**Five hours before outside the bank…**

"We have a plan ready to go. We can go in and get the hostage-takers now, sir," said the leader-in-charge of the operation to the man in front of him.

"With how many causalities?" asked the man standing in front of the leader-in-charge, twirling his umbrella.

"Hopefully zero, sir, though there may be a few depending on…" started the leader-in-charge of the operation.

"Come up with a new plan, Agent Jefferies. That is my brother in there and I will not allow him to become another statistic," said the man, leaning on his umbrella now and Agent Jefferies wondered how such a move could look so dangerous.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes. You will have a new plan shortly," said Agent Jefferies, nodding at Mycroft who nodded back in a clear dismissal, and then he left.

After a moment, Mycroft called the two operatives who were following his brother and Doctor Watson yesterday and said in his most dangerous voice when dealing with incompetent agents who have failed him, "Agents Thompson and Johnston. If Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson along with the Detective Inspector die in this bank, you should know that you both will… disappear, for your indiscretion of not stopping the bank robbery before it happened. If they both survive, relatively unscathed, you both will disappear, just not permanently and you will forever become janitors in the office and any other office you seek to work at. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," said Agents Thompson and Johnston as if they expected nothing less.

"Go wait for me in your old office and don't think you can simply disappear from me. No one can do that. Remember," said Mycroft dismissing them and turning back to stare at the bank for a moment before going back over to his limousine to wait for any more news while watching the cameras and debating whether or not he should call Mummy again or wait until it was all over when he had more news.

* * *

**Five hours before in the bank…**

John abruptly awoke at five o'clock in the morning according to his watch and looking around, only Sherlock was awake, the same as when he went to sleep.

* * *

**Mycroft's office**

"Wait one moment, Doctor Watson. You skipped five hours," said Mycroft looking up from his notebook.

"I fell asleep. You just wrote that," said John pointing to Mycroft's notebook.

Mycroft looked to Lestrade expecting him to answer next.

"I – ouch – damn it Sherlock, don't pinch me. I fell asleep before John so some of that information, though not much, was new to me as well," said Lestrade, throwing a look at Sherlock who stared at him.

Mycroft turned his stare at Sherlock who looked away from Lestrade to look at Mycroft and said, "I fell asleep only moments after John."

Mycroft let out a sigh and said, "Why don't I believe that?"

Sherlock just continued to look at him.

Mycroft let out another sigh before deciding to let it go, deciding not to fight this time.

"Very well, John, continue whenever you are ready," said Mycroft, rotating his wrist a bit, before placing his pen back on the notebook to continue taking notes.

* * *

**Five hours before in the bank…**

John abruptly awoke at five o'clock in the morning according to his watch and looking around, only Sherlock was awake, the same when he went to sleep.

He looked away from Sherlock, who still had Harry laying against him except now Harry was using his leg as a pillow and was covered in Lestrade's jacket, and wiped a hand down his face. He had had a nightmare but was awoken before he could do something embarrassing like scream out or hit someone who tried to wake him up.

He turned to his left and saw that Lestrade was still sleeping, his mouth slightly opened. Strange, he never took Lestrade for a snorer. He turned back to look at Sherlock, to ask him if he slept at all, and nearly jumped and screamed, like a man of course. Sherlock's face was inches from his own.

"Don't do that," said John softly but with force.

"You had a nightmare," said Sherlock ignoring what John said though he moved his face away from John's.

"Yeah," responded John even though he knew Sherlock didn't need the confirmation.

"Hmm," said Sherlock and that's as far as he acknowledged it but he did change the subject which John was thankful for. "We should probably discuss what to do about Harry."

"What to do about Harry?" echoed John, who figured he needed tea for this conversation but knew he wasn't going to get it.

"Obviously, we are going to take custody of him and possibly adopt him," said Sherlock simply as if John did not repeat what he said back at him.

"Obviously," said John, slightly sarcastically and slightly incredulously.

"Sarcasm is ill-suited for you, John," said Sherlock.

"Sherlock, we can't just take Harry with us," said John, sighing.

"Why not? I've given it extensive thought throughout the night and the day before," said Sherlock.

"Throughout the – Did you sleep at all last night?" asked John.

"Dull. I had too much to do and no time for sleep," said Sherlock. "Why can't we take Harry with us?"

"Well, no matter how much we dislike them and how they are acting, Harry's got a family," said John though it sounded very weak, even to him and it tasted very bitter coming out.

"They are not fit to raise their own child let alone their nephew," said Sherlock with disgust.

"Sherlock –" started John.

"No, John, it's true. Surely you must have realized how poorly Harry is dressed compared to the rest of them? And how much thinner he is to the rest of them? Even Mrs. Dursley is not as thin as he is so it cannot all be genes. Mr. Dursley's behavior to him is simply appalling and even I recognize this," explained Sherlock.

"I'm not saying it's not, Sherlock, but what you want to do is nothing more than kidnapping," said John.

Sherlock sniffed and said, "You cannot kidnap the willing, John, and if we asked Harry I am willing to bet he would want to come with us without a second thought."

John paused slightly before he answered. He knew that what he said next would determine what happened. He really didn't want Harry to go back with the Dursleys as he could tell that they didn't treat him well if the name they called him was anything to go by and judging by what Sherlock just said and what Harry himself had let slip…

But Sherlock and he did not have a very conducive life to raising a child and don't even get him started on their flat. It's a potentially toxic place for an adult let alone a five-year-old child, not to mention about bedroom space, the experiments, their chronic milk problem…

John looked at Sherlock again. Sherlock, who for some reason was trying to protect Harry and teach him. John sighed. Oh hell.

John sighed again, he knew what he was going to do and agree to, and said, "Sherlock, I would love for Harry to come live with us –"

"He can move in with us when this situation is resolved then. Mycroft's people should be making their move soon," said Sherlock cutting off whatever else John had to say.

John narrowed his eye and continued as if Sherlock hadn't interrupted him, "But our flat needs to be rearranged then. We have to do something about the living arrangements, you need to move your experiments and you have to stop experimenting with the milk! Not to mention we need to –"

Sherlock scoffed and said, "Don't be ridiculous. I have not experimented with milk since I was five."

John really needed a cup of tea before he could deal with anymore but he decided to ask, "So where does it go if you don't experiment with it?"

Sherlock didn't answer.

John continued, "Harry's going to need the milk to help him grow. We can't constantly be going out for it."

Sherlock still didn't answer.

"Sherlock."

No answer.

John was going to kill him.

After a couple of minutes, John looked down at Harry who was still sleeping across Sherlock's leg and asked, "How did he sleep?"

"Poorly," said Sherlock. "He wasn't lying. He does have nightmares fairly often and most probably of his parents' deaths."

John was slightly surprised and said, "He didn't have nightmares about this situation?"

"I imagine so but his parents' deaths seem to be worse for him," said Sherlock, looking at Harry and John couldn't distinguish the look that crossed his face. It looked oddly like caring to him but John decided to keep that thought to himself least Sherlock become aware of it and stop doing it.

"Lestrade seems to know something," said John conversationally.

"Yes, we'll need to interrogate him once this unpleasantness is resolved," said Sherlock, nodding his head.

John made a noise that could be taken as either a sound of displeasure or agreement, though John was sure Sherlock took it to mean an agreement, before they lapsed into silence.

During their silence, everyone in the vault started to slowly wake, starting with Lestrade. The vault floor really was not the most comfortable place to sleep on for long periods of time.

Lestrade sat up slowly and John could hear his back cracking and see it spasm intermittently. Lestrade wasn't as young as he used to be for a floor to actually feel comfortable to him.

John saw Lestrade look around the vault for a moment before his gaze paused on John himself and then moved onto Sherlock, taking in the scene, before they moved back to John.

"Did he even sleep?" asked Lestrade to John.

Before John could answer, Sherlock said, "I am sitting right here, Detective Inspector."

"Yeah, but John is more likely to give me an answer, isn't he?" replied Lestrade before he turned back to John waiting for an answer.

Sherlock frowned as John said, "No. At least that's what he tells me."

Sherlock snorted and said, "I had too much to think about and sleeping is dull."

John looked at Lestrade and said, "He gets like this sometimes."

"Yeah, I know. You should have seen him when he drank coffee for five days straight," said Lestrade nodding his head and grimacing slightly.

John looked absolutely mortified.

"Yeah that's about it," said Lestrade, still grimacing.

Sherlock sniffed, rather indignantly, and said, "I was working an intriguing case."

John snorted and said, "You're always working an intriguing case when you forego sleep."

"You know how I hate to repeat myself, John, but I'll do it once more. Sleeping is dull compared to intriguing cases!" said Sherlock with passion.

John just shook his head at his friend as if he would never understand him. Lestrade was obviously still caught up in his disturbing memories of Sherlock during his five days without sleep.

Once Lestrade came out of reminiscing, the three of them sat in silence and watched as everyone slowly woke up during the next half hour, Harry finally sitting up from using Sherlock's leg as a pillow.

"Sorry," said Harry once he was awake.

"I laid you in that position so you have nothing to be sorry about, Harry," responded Sherlock as if it were nothing and John thought that indeed to Sherlock, it probably was nothing.

Harry nodded his head though he didn't look at anyone, clearly embarrassed though John saw no need for him to be.

Everyone sat in silence for the next fifteen minutes as they tried to wake themselves up without their usual means. It wasn't hard. They were still hostages and adrenaline was a wonderful thing.

Sherlock deciding everyone had enough time waking up, turned to the Dursleys and said, "Once Mycroft's people end this, I will be taking Harry with me."

If John had been the type to face-palm when things were going to get ugly, he would have done so right now though when John looked over at them, for some reason, the Dursleys looked angry.

John looked over at Lestrade and saw that he looked slightly bewildered but not at all surprised by this. John would wonder more on this later, there was one person's reaction he had to see so he turned to look at Harry who looked shocked and slightly hopeful that Sherlock actually meant it. If John's reasoning and Sherlock didn't make John want to take Harry in, Harry's look would have. It's a good thing they decided for sure, that's the excuse John was sticking with, while Harry was asleep.

"No you won't," said Mrs. Dursley at once.

John was not the only who looked confused at that pronouncement. He would have thought for sure they would have jumped for joy at someone offering to take Harry away from them for good.

John saw Sherlock's eyebrows rise very high at that as he said, "Why not?"

The Dursleys didn't offer an explanation but then they didn't need to. The answer was obvious, very obvious, to Sherlock, John could tell by the way his eyes were raking over their bodies.

"You were offered some type of protection by taking him in because he is family? Yes, because he is family and you are getting paid for his necessities like clothing and food, though obviously you haven't been using the money on him," said Sherlock.

The Dursleys, not confirming anything, though Mrs. Dursley said, "Dudley needed new clothes. He outgrew his old ones faster than the fre- than the boy."

"Obviously," said Sherlock with a sneer in his voice.

"What right do you have to judge my family?" asked Mr. Dursley, angrily.

"Someone has to if you think this is okay!" said Sherlock, giving him a glare.

John watched as Harry and Dudley watched Sherlock and Mr. and Mrs. Dursley talked, and that was being kind, back and forth, their heads moving like they were watching a tennis match.

Finally, Mr. Dursley said, "You can't take the Freak and that's that."

Sherlock snorted and said, "I think you settled it right there, Mr. Dursley. Harry will be coming with me."

Lestrade said to John, though loud enough to be heard by all, "I think I need to make an inquiry into Child Protective Services when this is all over."

"But the neighbors," said Mr. Dursley.

"Are less important than your nephew's safety to me," said Lestrade using his Detective Inspector voice and continuing, "and until we can determine if everything checks out, Harry will be placed in the custody of someone else." Lestrade purposely did not specify anyone.

John watched now as Harry looked at Lestrade hopefully with a questioning look in his eye and Lestrade nodded very slightly and once in the boy's direction which caused Harry to grin, very slightly.

"You can't do that," said Mrs. Dursley.

"I can actually," said Lestrade, still sounding official. John had no idea if Lestrade could actually do that but he definitely was.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were silent for a moment before Mr. Dursley opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Mrs. Dursley said, "Vernon."

Mr. Dursley looked over at her and she shook her head at him. Mr. Dursley huffed but he leaned back against the vault wall and didn't say another word.

Everyone sat in silence for the next hour, not saying a word to each other, until a commotion outside the vault drew their attention to the door.

* * *

**Mycroft's Office**

"Oh my – Sherlock!" said John jumping up and out of Mycroft's chair as if that would somehow help him.

"Do be quiet, John, Harry is still sleeping," said Sherlock, sounding bored, though he had a very pleased smirk on his face.

"Sherlock," said Mycroft, sounding disapproving.

Lestrade was speechless but also slightly thankful that that wasn't him.

"Mycroft," said Sherlock as John was still walking around and jumping as if that would somehow help him though admittedly not much would help when you throw a hot pot of tea on someone's lap and hot tea pours onto them.

Lestrade, trying to be helpful, said, "You may want to try taking off your trousers."

John threw him a dirty look for pointing out the obvious, his hands already working on trying to do just that while still walking around and jumping as if those movements would help with the burning he was experiencing and he said, "I'm going to kill you, Sherlock."

"John," said Sherlock sounding reproving.

"John," said Mycroft trying to be helpful. "Go into the adjoining bathroom and take off all affected clothing and I will have replacements brought in."

John, with a glare at Sherlock, went into the bathroom and shut the door.

Mycroft gave his brother another look before he walked around to his desk, picked up the phone, dialed a number and said, "Yes? Anthea, we have a code nine four three one dash B. Please bring replacements." He hung up the phone. Then he picked up the teapot that was still on his chair and set it back on his desk.

Sherlock scowled at his brother and said, sounding disgusted, "You have a code for this?"

Mycroft nodded once impassively and said, "I have codes for everything regarding you."

"Even if I –" started Sherlock.

"Yes, code five eight two dash C," said Mycroft.

"And I did –" continued Sherlock.

"Yes, code one eight four seven dash Y dash A," interrupted Mycroft.

Sherlock leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

If Lestrade didn't know any better, he would say Sherlock Holmes was _pouting_.

Further conversation was interrupted by a knock on the office door.

"Enter," said Mycroft, sitting down in his chair behind his desk. It was much better than that atrocity in front of his desk.

"Sir, the replacements for code nine four three one dash B," said Anthea holding the spare clothes.

"What if I –" started Sherlock, again.

"Yes, code three eight two one four dash B dash Z," said Mycroft and he sounded stern.

Anthea looked slightly panicked and was surreptitiously looking for somewhere to duck for cover while Lestrade looked confused.

"He was just asking, Anthea. He didn't actually do it," said Mycroft, trying to sound reassuring while shooting a glare at his brother who had a passive look on his face though Mycroft could tell he was pleased with this reaction.

Anthea, recovered, and looking bored said, "The replacements, sir?"

Mycroft nodded at the bathroom and said, "He's in there."

Anthea nodded once, walked over to the door, knocked once and said, "Doctor Watson? I have your replacements."

The door opened, a hand was held out for the clothes, Anthea passed them over and the door was shut again without any words being said other than a quick thanks.

Anthea nodded once at her boss and she quickly made her way out of the office. If her boss' brother was talking about a code three eight two one four dash B dash Z, she didn't want to be anywhere near them for the moment. She had lots to do anyway.

Everyone sat in silence while waiting for John to come back out of the bathroom and when he did, dressed in trousers that weren't doused in hot tea, he shot Sherlock a glare and moved to sit in the chair that was the farthest from Sherlock.

After a minute of silence, Mycroft looked at John and said, "Would you like to continue?"

"Piss off," said John, very calmly. He was obviously very cross with them all.

"Someone has to continue it and John you're the only one left to tell it," said Mycroft and if John and Lestrade didn't know any better, they would have said he was desperate.

"Don't be an idiot, I can finish telling it, Mycroft," said Sherlock looking at his brother before John could say anything else.

Mycroft looked his brother in the eye for a moment before he sighed and said, "Very well. Whenever you feel like you can finish it."

Sherlock's lip twitched but he didn't say or do anything more for a moment before he continued.

* * *

**Two hours forty-five minutes before in the bank…**

The commotion outside the vault actually had to be pretty loud for them to hear inside the vault, thought Sherlock, which confirmed that this was Mycroft's men rescuing them, they never could do anything silently. They probably spent their whole time working on a plan that wouldn't endanger him, knowing how protective Mycroft could be. Sherlock could have snorted. And Mycroft was the one who said caring wasn't an advantage.

He refused to give any extra thought to how he has been acting towards Harry the past day.

There was the sound of gunfire being exchanged and the Dursley child screamed and his mother held him tight.

Sherlock looked at the vault door again. It looked very thick and he doubted much could penetrate it so they were safe as long as none of the hostage-takers decided they needed their hostages outside the vault.

Sherlock doubted Mycroft's men would let the hostage-takers make for the vault anymore and live if they valued their own lives. Mycroft was the British Government, no matter how many times he denied it, and could make a lot of people disappear if they displeased him, not that Mycroft abused his power. No. Never. There was a glitch in the CCTV that caused them to follow Sherlock whenever he went out before he met John.

After ten minutes the sound of gunfire stopped and there was utter silence coming from the outside. Everyone exchanged a look with someone who they were comfortable with, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, Lestrade with John and him and so on and Harry grabbed his hand out of nerves.

Sherlock, unsure what to do, squeezed it back carefully and hoped it conveyed comfort.

Then there was the sound of the vault being opened and torches being shined in. Were they trying to blind everyone?

"Mr. Holmes?" asked one of the men and it definitely wasn't the leader of the hostage-takers. Sherlock knew this voice.

"Agent Jefferies. So nice to see you again. Can you please stop blinding me with the torch?" said Sherlock, sounding frustrated.

"Sorry, sir. I've got orders to –" started Agent Jefferies.

"Agent Jefferies. We've known each other a long time and we both can guess how this is going to go," said Sherlock.

"Mr. Holmes," started Agent Jefferies.

"Isn't there something else you should be doing? Like supervising everyone getting out of the vault?" asked Sherlock cutting off Agent Jefferies.

"Mr. Holmes won't be happy about this," said Agent Jefferies.

"Mycroft never is," said Sherlock simply.

"Oh thank God, we're saved," said Mrs. Dursley to the agents who came up to her and her family and the others were making similar statements except for John and Lestrade, Sherlock noticed, who were standing calmly by him.

Harry tugged on his hand, which he was still holding and Sherlock looked at him. Harry beckoned for him to come closer to his level and Sherlock did as it didn't seem like Harry wanted everyone to hear what he had to say and Harry was hardly tall enough to come to his level.

"Is it really over?" asked Harry quietly, though not quietly enough if John and Lestrade's faces were anything to go by.

"Yes," said Sherlock simply and though it rankled him to admit it, he would for Harry's sake, "These men saved us."

Harry looked over at all the agents escorting everyone out of the vault and said, "You don't like them very much, do you?"

"Very astute, Harry. I don't like them for very personal reasons. I don't doubt they can do their jobs, however," said Sherlock, though he doubted they could do it with any efficiency. He kept that thought to himself, however, as he realized that it may not be comforting to a five-year-old child.

"Let's go," said Agent Jefferies who was standing in front of him with two other agents, for John and Lestrade's protection.

Sherlock made a noise but he stood up and took Harry's hand again, which he had released when he got down to Harry's level, and followed Agent Jefferies out of the vault with John and his agent following him and Lestrade and his agent following John.

When they made it outside the vault, however, Sherlock realized a problem and stopped.

"Why haven't the hostage-takers been taken outside yet?" asked Sherlock. Those incompetent…

Agent Jefferies looked at him and said, "Our objective was to secure them and rescue the hostages. They are secure."

Hostages walked passed him, including the Dursley family with Mr. and Mrs. Dursley scowling at him but he paid them little attention.

"They would have been more secure –" started Sherlock and that's as far as he got before he was cut off from the sound of shattering glass and what sounded like five consecutive shots coming from the outside.

He heard Agent Jefferies yelling in his earpiece about telling someone to hold their fire but it was obviously too late. Whatever was happening was over with as there were no more shots after the five.

Then the sound of children screaming startled Sherlock into looking down. The Dursley child wasn't the only one screaming. Harry was too so his mind jumped to the worst possible scenario. His eyes immediately sought out John and Lestrade, they were both fine, he would have felt if Harry had been hit, his body would have jerked. In fact, Sherlock saw John shake off his agent and was making his way over to where Sherlock was to check Sherlock and Harry over himself to make sure they were fine.

Harry was still screaming, however, and Sherlock looked down at him and saw that Harry was looking at something past him.

Sherlock and John, who after ascertaining that nothing was wrong with either Sherlock or Harry, looked over as well at what Harry was looking at and could tell immediately why he was screaming along with Dudley.

The four hostage-takers had been shot, head kill shots judging from the bullet holes that were obvious, even with the masks.

Though that didn't explain why Harry was still screaming. The hostage-takers were past Harry's point of view. Sherlock kept looking and then it became even more obvious as to why Harry was screaming.

Mrs. Dursley had been shot as well and she was dead, her eyes staring blankly at her son. It looked to Sherlock as if the bullet had pierced her heart judging from where all the blood seemed to be coming from. She would have died almost instantly as far as he could tell.

Sherlock continued to look in that area and saw that Mr. Dursley also appeared to have been shot, though not fatally. The bullet must have exited from Mrs. Dursley and struck him as he appeared to have an abdominal wound and now that there were no more shots, there haven't been for at least five minutes, a medic was tending to Mr. Dursley so John wasn't needed there unless they asked for him specifically because Mr. Dursley was in danger of dying and John would help as that is the sort of person he is.

"Sherlock, cover his eyes or turn him away. He doesn't need to see this anymore," said John. He had obviously seen what Sherlock had.

Sherlock felt it was probably obvious to John that even though the Dursleys didn't care much for Harry, and Sherlock felt that that was an understatement, they were still his family and seeing them like this was very upsetting to Harry.

Sherlock, surprisingly, listened to John at once and turned Harry into his side and Harry clutched him tightly. Sherlock felt tears soak the side of his suit almost immediately though Harry had stopped screaming. Harry very obviously cared for his family, even if they didn't care for him the way they should, and he was leaving them and was happy about it. Sherlock wanted to let out a sigh. He would probably never understand this sentiment.

The other hostages had been escorted out at this point, though the Dursley child was still in the bank and screaming, though he didn't approach his mother, obviously aware of what all the blood meant.

Paramedics came in with a stretcher for Mr. Dursley who was barely hanging onto consciousness. One of the agents took the Dursley child over to his father, who had been stabilized so that his father could try to calm him down. It worked and he stopped screaming and one of the agents were able to lead him outside quietly, probably to contact another relative.

As they were taking Mr. Dursley out on a stretcher, however, he yelled for everyone to hear in his drug-induced state, "It's all the Freak's fault! He could have stopped this! I'll kill him!" Then he passed out.

Harry, however, didn't realize this and clutched Sherlock tighter and Sherlock could feel the quiet sobs of the boy. This was in no way his fault.

"Harry," started Sherlock but he was cut off as others came into the bank to collect the bodies. Sherlock thought it was best not to move Harry from his side. Harry didn't need to see this process or the bodies anymore as he undoubtedly would if they were to make him move to take him outside and John and Lestrade started to talk about things, Sherlock wasn't paying attention, so Harry couldn't hear what they were doing.

"Sir," started Agent Jefferies and Sherlock glared at him until the man went away. Couldn't he see that Sherlock was trying to prevent a crisis?

Sherlock watched the workers with detachment. Mycroft's workers if their efficiency, or lack of, was anything to go by. They were done with everything they needed to do relatively quickly and they even managed to clean up some of the blood (they were Mycroft's people so they had to have an inkling of why he wasn't leaving yet).

The bodies would probably be taken to Molly as they would probably take them to Saint Bart's for an autopsy even if it was clear how they died.

"Sherlock," said Lestrade a few minutes to him once the bodies were gone.

Sherlock looked at him.

"We should get going outside," said Lestrade and that's as far as he got before Sherlock cut him off by looking down at Harry.

Harry who was frozen at Sherlock's side and wouldn't move even after John and Lestrade made several attempts to move him.

Finally, Sherlock told him it was okay to let go of him. Unsurprisingly it didn't work and only caused Harry to hold onto him tighter. Sherlock thought it was good thing Harry only reached his hip as any higher and breathing could possibly be a problem.

Then finally after five minutes of unsuccessful attempts from John, Lestrade and even Agent Jefferies to get Harry dislodged from Sherlock, Sherlock said to Harry, "I'm going to pick you up, Harry, and carry you outside. Okay?" Sherlock disliked asking for permission but he somehow felt compelled to do it for this boy, especially since all the extraordinary things that have happened so far and Lestrade's strange looks at the boy after them. Lestrade thought no one noticed. Sherlock could have scoffed at his naivety.

Sherlock felt Harry nod in his side, his tears stopped at this point, though he didn't move. Sherlock twisted very awkwardly and picked the boy up and started to walk out of the bank without a word to anyone, he didn't want to be questioned by the police and he didn't want Harry to be either, and he felt John and Lestrade flank him, apparently they weren't going to talk to the police today either, how hypocritical of Lestrade. Either that or they didn't trust him with Harry and Sherlock didn't know whether to feel insulted over that or not.

Sherlock caught a glimpse of John's watch and realized they had been inside the bank for twenty-four hours at this point and felt that it had been some twenty-four hours.

Then they all stepped outside of the bank and saw Mycroft standing in front of his limousine straightening his suit. The next twenty-four hours were not looking so great, however.

* * *

**Mycroft's Office**

"There we told you what happened. Now tell us about Harry," said Sherlock, impatiently, not bothering to wait and see Mycroft's reaction to what happened inside the bank.

Mycroft, instead of answering, turned to another piece of paper and wrote something down. He tore the paper out of his tablet and handed it over to Sherlock.

Sherlock, rather reluctantly, took it and said, "What's this?"

"A book title," replied Mycroft calmly as if he knew where the conversation was now headed.

"Book title?" parroted Sherlock, looking at the paper and reading the title.

"Yes," said Mycroft.

"And why do I have this book title?" asked Sherlock.

"That is my end of the agreement," said Mycroft.

"No you said you would tell us everything," said Sherlock.

"I said I would let you know all I know and that book has everything I know. I still have duties I must perform and oaths I cannot break, even for you, brother," said Mycroft.

Sherlock looked at him, looked at the book title again and said, "Where would I even find a title like this?"

Mycroft was looking pointedly at Lestrade and everyone else turned to look at him.

"Me?" said Lestrade. "Does it look like I spend my free time looking for books? How will I know where it is?"

"Show him the name of the book, Sherlock," instructed Mycroft, lazily.

Sherlock, who was interested in why Mycroft thought Lestrade would know, showed him without too much fuss. Lestrade's reaction when he saw the title of the book was intriguing though. He paled considerably and choked on air. Then he looked over at Harry who was still sleeping on the couch as though all his suspicions were confirmed once and for all.

"What – Who – How do you know?" asked Lestrade looking back at Mycroft.

"You didn't really think that something like that would slip past me? I chose not to say anything as I knew what had happened and how – _delicate_ – the situation was. Believe me, it was looked into before you were able to work with Sherlock," said Mycroft.

"I can't even get into the Alley," said Lestrade. "I don't have much say, not being what I am."

"Regardless, you have three things working for you. You are the oldest of your siblings, you are alive in your immediate family and most importantly you are the only free one left in your family. You are also from an old family, from what I gather. Regardless of what you are to _them_ , that all still means something to some in your – community."

"It hasn't been my community since I turned eleven," said Lestrade and he sounded somewhat angry.

Sherlock and John could only watch the exchange going on between Lestrade and Mycroft with fascination even if they both were lost, not something that happened to Sherlock often.

Mycroft just looked at Lestrade and said, "We both know that's not true."

"Following with current events that affect _this_ community is different. There was a threat and I needed to keep myself and family safe," said Lestrade, frowning.

"Ah, there is that family-raised Slytherin self-preservation coming through," said Mycroft with a slight sneer.

Lestrade let out a scowl. He hated all reminders of his family and that perhaps was one of the biggest.

"What are the two of you talking about?" asked Sherlock, not liking the feeling of not knowing what was going on.

"Ask Gregory Lestrange," said Mycroft with a note in his voice was that was indescribable by all except Sherlock.

"Who?" asked John and he sounded confused but he was looking at Lestrade since Mycroft was directing the majority of the previous conversation at him and he was able to catch Lestrade clenching his hands into fists and his scowl becoming even more pronounced as did Sherlock who was also watching him as well as Mycroft.

"I haven't gone by that name since I was eleven," said Lestrade and he sounded angry though John couldn't work out why.

"Well it seems like your past is coming back to haunt you, doesn't it?" said Mycroft.

Lestrade looked like he wanted to tell Mycroft exactly where he could shove that saying but barely refrained himself, just barely.

Instead, he refused to say another word to anyone on the subject.

"Well," said Sherlock after five minutes of silence, standing up and walking over to Harry to gently pick him up after pocketing his glasses in his suit jacket. "We're leaving."

"You can't take him," said Mycroft, sounding slightly worried.

"Get me custody of Harry, Mycroft," said Sherlock as if Mycroft hadn't spoken.

"Sherlock –" started Mycroft.

"Mycroft," said Sherlock.

Mycroft let out a sigh before he said, "I will do what I can but I cannot guarantee anything."

"You're the British Government," said Sherlock as if it were that simple for him.

"I hold a minor position in the British Government," countered Mycroft.

John and Lestrade let out slight snorts of incredulity that Mycroft thought he was fooling anyone with that lie.

Sherlock left with Harry with a parting, "I hope there is a cab to take me home without one of your lackeys inside, Mycroft."

Knowing that his brother could still hear him and knowing that he may need the advice, Mycroft said, "Don't let him sleep too much longer or else you'll never get him to sleep tonight."

Mycroft let out a sigh as John and Lestrade followed Sherlock with a parting nod of goodbye, though stiffly in Lestrade's case, to Mycroft who acknowledge them with his own.

After Sherlock, Harry, John and Lestrade left, Mycroft picked up his phone, punched in the number for Anthea's office and said, "I need you to set up an appointment for me with _them_ for next week. No. Not their Minister, someone that we can trust won't try to gain something for themselves and from their Children Welfare Office. Also send me everything you have on Harry Potter's family and their friends, current locations, jobs, you know the drill." He then hung up the phone.

He then remembered that he still had to deal with Agents Thompson and Johnston. Well, they could keep for the moment. Best to let them sweat about what was going to happen to them. He wasn't referred to by many as "the Iceman" for no reason, that was a well-earned title.

Mycroft let out another sigh and said out loud to himself, "I hope you still want Harry Potter once you find out who he is and what he will be capable of, though, God help me if you do. The messes you'll both get into, I can see it now." Mycroft let out another sigh and turned to his computer that had the footage from the bank to see if everything happened the exact way Sherlock, Lestrade and John had said it did.

Before he could get started, though, there was a knock at his door.

"Come in," he said, making sure his weariness was out of his voice.

"Sir," said Anthea, coming in with an evidence bag that contained a note, "This was found at the scene. We took over for Scotland Yard."

Mycroft took the bag, nodding his head at what she said and read the note. He couldn't help but feel his heart drop slightly. He did not think this note was meant for anyone but Sherlock.

_You're welcome. With love. – M_

Meanwhile, Sherlock, Harry, John and Lestrade parted ways once they got outside of Mycroft's office, Lestrade promising to bring the book to Baker Street tomorrow once he had a chance to pick it up, as it would be better if he went by himself, and saying he would explain everything that Mycroft was talking about tomorrow as well and Sherlock, while unhappy about it, agreed.

Sherlock, John and Harry, still sleeping, then got into a taxi, sans Mycroft's lackey, and returned to Baker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: So some of you have asked me if this was the end after they got out of the bank. My answer: No. In fact, you could say, this is just the beginning!


	9. Interlude 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Background: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Beta: Lady of the Shards

Interlude 1

Sherlock, John and Harry arrived at Baker Street with Harry still asleep. John got out of the taxi first and paid the cabbie as Sherlock got out carrying Harry carefully.

"Open the door, John," said Sherlock quietly.

John while still cross with Sherlock for spilling the hot tea on him but not wanting to make a scene or wake Harry up quite yet, moved to do as Sherlock asked when the door opened from the other side and Mrs. Hudson came out.

"Sherlock! John! You're both all right!" she said, rather loudly in Sherlock's opinion, making a move to hug them both before she spotted Harry in Sherlock's arms.

"Sherlock," said Mrs. Hudson carefully. "Who is that?"

"This is Harry. He will be living with us from now on. We'll work out the details inside after I have laid him down somewhere more comfortable," stated Sherlock.

"Of course, dear," said Mrs. Hudson gesturing for the both of them to go inside. "Go right up and I'll bring you both a cuppa along with a glass of milk for Harry when he wakes. You really should wake him up soon. He'll never sleep tonight if you let him sleep much longer. It's barely noon."

"So I've heard," said Sherlock dully.

John went up the stairs first so he could open the door at the top and Sherlock followed him carefully up the stairs, probably for the first time since they moved into the flat.

Once they entered the living room area of the flat, Sherlock thought about where he should put Harry before he mentally shrugged and started to head towards his own room when John's voice stopped him.

"Where are you going?" asked John sounding curious having watched Sherlock while he stood and had a silent debate with himself.

"To lay Harry on my bed," said Sherlock in his you-are-being-an-idiot-can't-you-tell voice.

"So when he wakes up, he panics because he's in a completely unfamiliar space? No. Lay him down on the couch," said John pointing without looking at it.

"Where? It's completely unusable," said Sherlock with a raised eyebrow.

"What? No it's not," said John, he had cleaned it, he was sure before they left the flat yesterday. Then he looked at the mess that was on the couch and sighed. He wasn't kidding before. Their flat needed to be cleaned and child-proofed.

Sherlock simply looked at John but before Sherlock could do or say anything, John walked over to the couch and cleared it with one simple long swipe of his arm, everything landing on the floor in a large pile, and then looked at Sherlock, daring him to say something.

Sherlock continued to look at him before he laid Harry carefully down and said, "You ruined an experiment I had going."

"You ruined a perfectly good pair of trousers," replied John.

"Oh," said Mrs. Hudson looking at them, surprised, as she came in with the tea.

John sighed. He just couldn't win with conversations like this. It always seemed Mrs. Hudson walked in and took something he said the wrong way. He loved her for it though and John watched as she registered that he had on a new pair of trousers, no doubt coming to the wrong conclusion on what had happened.

As if Mrs. Hudson hadn't interrupted, Sherlock said, "Don't worry, John. I have a way to make it up to you."

"Make it up to me?" repeated John as if Sherlock could never make up for the trauma he had put John through and Mrs. Hudson went into their kitchen area to set down the tea, talking to herself.

"Yes, code three eight two one four dash B dash Z," replied Sherlock.

"Code what?" repeated John confused.

Sherlock grinned at him and said, "Apparently Mycroft has a code for everything I do!"

"Even if you –" started John.

"Yes, it is code five eight two dash C," said Sherlock nodding his head.

"What if you –" continued John.

Sherlock nodded again and said, "It is code one eight four seven dash Y dash A."

John thought for a moment before he said, "And what if you –"

Sherlock nodded a third time and said, "I suspect so though I don't plan on burning down the flat anytime soon."

"You better not Sherlock Holmes!" said Mrs. Hudson at once looking around the barrier.

"Where would we live if I did that, Mrs. Hudson?" asked Sherlock as if it were the most obvious thing.

Harry slept on as if he were oblivious to the whole conversation and John was now hoping that that was not a toxic experiment that he ruined.

"It wasn't," said Sherlock at once, reading the thought as it passed over John's face.

John looked at him.

"I wouldn't have laid him down there if I had let you swipe off bio-hazardous materials just seconds before. Give me some credit," said Sherlock with a slight scowl.

John just continued to look at him.

Sherlock made a noise and went to get a cup of tea from Mrs. Hudson who had also brought biscuits. He needed the extra caffeine and sugar since he didn't sleep last night or the night before and he was starting to feel it.

After a moment, Mrs. Hudson said, "You boys really should wake him up. I remember Mrs. Turner, next door, saying about how if her grandchildren slept too long during the day, her children had a hard time getting them to sleep during the night."

John and Sherlock exchanged a look before Sherlock pointedly looked away and moved towards the window as if he could get away from the conversation.

John awkwardly cleared his throat and said, "Er – Mrs. Hudson. How does one wake a sleeping child?"

Mrs. Hudson laughed, sure that John and Sherlock were teasing until she realized she was the only one laughing and then she stopped when she realized they were serious. She hid a grin.

"Well, John. That is something everyone has to work out for themselves. How did your parents use to wake you up? Think about it," said Mrs. Hudson and she left the flat, chuckling to herself.

Sherlock looked at John panicked and said, "How are we suppose to wake him up?"

John looked at him and said, "How did your parents wake you up?"

"Mycroft."

"What?"

"They sent Mycroft," explained Sherlock further. He even gave a shudder for dramatic effect.

John stared at him.

"Yes, that was my reaction as well when I woke up," said Sherlock nodding his head in agreement to John's look.

"You're not going to subject poor Harry to that are you?" asked John and he sounded and looked serious.

"Be serious, John," said Sherlock as his new phone, which one of Mycroft's people had pushed on him and John as they left his office, chimed which he ignored.

"I am," said John, still looking serious and Sherlock's phone chimed again which was, again, promptly ignored.

"Hmm, we will have to check the flat for listening devices again," said Sherlock as if commenting on the weather.

"Sherlock," said John.

"It's not my fault, John," said Sherlock and John just looked at him.

"You're stalling," said John and now he was grinning.

"Well, why don't you wake him up?" asked Sherlock.

"He's more comfortable with you," pointed out John.

"Hmm…" said Sherlock.

He looked around the room before he went over to the fireplace and picked up the skull. John quickly intercepted him, took the skull off him with a look and put it back on the fireplace.

"No one wants to wake up to that looking at them, Sherlock. You'll give him nightmares," said John.

Sherlock ignored him but he left the skull where John put it, looking around the room again before picking up a random stick that happened to be in the flat.

"You can't poke him with a stick either!" said John taking the stick off him.

"Well how am I suppose to wake him up then!" said Sherlock, sounding exasperated.

John's response was cut off, however, by giggling that was coming from the couch. Sherlock and John froze and slowly turned towards the sound, John still holding the stick. Harry was sitting up on the couch now and watching them, amusement clear as day on his face, though he was squinting at them as Sherlock still had his glasses in his pocket.

Sherlock and John exchanged a look before John dropped the stick and they both moved over to Harry who stopped laughing and was watching them carefully now.

* * *

Lestrade stood outside the pub and stared at it after he got out of the taxi, his own car waiting for him back at Scotland Yard courtesy of Sergeant Donovan picking it up from Baker Street for him. He hadn't been anywhere near this pub or anything like it since _that_ night. He sighed. Those Holmes really had no idea what they were asking of him. They didn't truly understand.

He ignored the mutterings he heard from passersby that he was staring at nothing. If they only knew.

He took a deep breath, opened the door of _The Leaky Cauldron,_ walked inside and went straight to the bar. He might as well get a drink.

"Well if it isn't Gregory Lestrange," said a voice in greeting.

* * *

After Mycroft sent those two texts to Sherlock, honestly telling Doctor Watson that, he went back to the reports on Harry's family, the bank situation checking out exactly how Sherlock, Lestrade and John had said or as far as he could tell. There were no cameras inside the vault, which would be remedied when he had the bank remodeled.

He flipped through another page of reports on Harry's family's friends reading and thought that Sherlock really had no need to be in that bank to begin with. It wasn't even his bank or the Detective Inspector's and come tomorrow, it wouldn't be John's either. Mycroft would make sure of it if Sherlock didn't.

Mycroft then frowned at what he saw in the packet prepared for him, or what he didn't see.

He picked up the phone, dialed his assistant's number and said, "Anthea? Come here for a moment." He then hung up without waiting for a response.

While waiting for Anthea to come to the office, he continued to flip through the packet, still frowning and reading and when there was a knock on his door, he said, "Enter," without looking up from it.

"Anthea? There is a report missing," said Mycroft getting right to the point by pointing out exactly what was missing.

Anthea looked at what Mycroft was pointing at to make sure she was on the same page and said, "No, sir. There isn't. There never was one."

"Never was one," parroted Mycroft back, sounding stumped. "You mean –"

"Yes, sir," said Anthea nodding her head at once, not needing him to finish.

Mycroft scowled and said, "Get me an appointment set up with _their_ Legal Department as well. I only want to speak to someone who can get me out _there_. I would rather speak to him."

Anthea looked hesitant and said, "You think he's still –"

"It doesn't matter if he is or isn't. The truth is in there somewhere and only he knows it at this point. Honestly how they sent him _there_ without finding out for certain… Get me the appointment set up right away."

"Yes, sir," said Anthea and she left to make the appointments, her phone back in her office.

Mycroft let out a sigh. There was trouble already and Harry wasn't even in Sherlock's custody for more than two hours tops. Though this one wasn't his fault granted.

Mycroft scowled at the incomplete report in front of him. It was no wonder _they_ were in the trouble they were in the past couple of years if this is what happened to their people. Though if he was guilty Mycroft wouldn't say another word, however, if he was innocent… There might be a job offer if he was sane enough…

Yes, Mycroft thought as he looked at the reports he did have, the man certainly did have the skills and creativity and not to mention a certain ruthlessness…

One thing was certain, though, Mycroft needed the appointment to go to Azkaban to question Sirius Black.

* * *

"It's done, sir. I even managed to hit one other person," said the sniper in front of his boss' desk.

"Excellent," said Moriarty with a grin. "Now the great game can _truly_ begin. Let's get to work. We have a lot to prepare..."


	10. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Background: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Betas: Lady of the Shards; Kyrianae Narii for advising me on pretty much everything U.K.

Chapter 8

Sherlock and John exchanged a look before John dropped the stick and they both moved over to Harry who stopped laughing and was watching them carefully now.

Sherlock and John stopped in front of Harry and they all watched each other carefully for a moment, an awkward moment, with no one knowing what to say.

Finally, John decided to break the silence and ask, "How did you sleep?"

Harry just shrugged his shoulders and looked down at his lap, picking at a hole in his trousers.

Sherlock's eyes looked Harry up and down, assessing him. He had nightmares again and he didn't want to say, afraid of their reactions.

Sherlock exchanged a look with John, one of many to come in the future when dealing with Harry, and nodded at the questioning look he saw in John's eyes. He had guessed right at why Harry didn't say anything.

They were going to have to work with Harry on this and probably many other things but first reassurance. Sherlock knew that is what you offered in these types of situations, right?

"Harry," said Sherlock, sounding careful to himself, and Harry looked up at him. "If you had a nightmare," Harry opened his mouth at once to deny it no doubt, but Sherlock continued on as if he didn't see it, "if you had a nightmare, it's okay. You can talk to us about it. You may not feel comfortable right now, but we can help. Especially John. Okay?"

Harry looked very uncomfortable but he nodded his head slowly to show he understood before he asked John softly, "You have nightmares too?"

John nodded and said, "All the time."

"Do they scare you?" asked Harry.

"All the time," was the answer again, though it was said softly, and the conversation dropped from there with Harry not having any more questions and John and Sherlock not being comfortable enough to ask Harry about his nightmare or Harry comfortable enough to say.

After a few minutes of awkward silence in which Sherlock and John were still standing above Harry looking down at him while he was staring up at them, squinting because Sherlock still hadn't handed over his glasses, Mrs. Hudson interrupted them.

"Sherlock, John, dears, I forgot to bring the milk up for Harry for when he wakes," she said looking at them before she realized where they were looking.

"Oh, you must be, Harry!" said Mrs. Hudson.

"Of course, he's Harry," said Sherlock sounding confused. He had told her earlier.

Mrs. Hudson hushed him as Harry nodded at her and walked over to Harry, handing John the milk and sitting beside Harry on the couch. Harry turned on the couch to look at Mrs. Hudson and they stared at each for a moment before Mrs. Hudson spoke.

"Sherlock, give this young man his glasses back so he can see, properly! Honestly, for a genius," she said shaking her head.

Sherlock looked at her for a moment, stumped, before he said, "Oh!" and took Harry's glasses out of his pocket and handed them to him. "Sorry."

"It's fine," said Harry, taking the glasses off of Sherlock and putting them on.

Mrs. Hudson just tsked at Sherlock and said, "That's much better, dear, isn't it? You can see properly now."

"Much better," said Harry. Then after a moment he said, "I'm sorry. Who are you?"

"Oh silly me. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Mrs. Hudson. Your landlady, _not_ your housekeeper. If only Sherlock and John could remember this," said Mrs. Hudson, shaking her head and smiling at Harry who grinned at her. Sherlock could tell that Harry liked Mrs. Hudson already and the feeling was definitely mutual from Mrs. Hudson.

"Are you thirsty, dear? I brought up milk since I know Sherlock and John are always out and you would want something more than water," said Mrs. Hudson.

Harry looked unsure and Sherlock watched him, reading the answer in his facial movements, before he nodded at John to hold out the cup of milk to Harry as he wanted it but didn't want to ask for it.

"Here, Harry, you have this," said John handing it to him and Harry took it cautiously as if expecting it to be taken back at the last moment now that they were in a semi-private setting but John handed it over to him and then asked, "Mrs. Hudson, you said you brought up two cups of tea before?"

"Yes, I left it on the cleanest part of the table," answered Mrs. Hudson.

"Thank you. Do you want some?" asked John back.

"Oh you don't have to," started Mrs. Hudson.

"Nonsense. We have to work out a new lease agreement. You might as well have a drink," said Sherlock.

"Well, in that case. You know how I like it, John," said Mrs. Hudson.

John made a noise of acknowledgment as Harry watched them all, drinking his milk. Sherlock stood in front of the couch, watching them all.

"Sit down, Sherlock. You're making _me_ , nervous," said Mrs. Hudson. "Pull your armchairs closer for the moment if you want to be closer to where we are sitting."

Sherlock continued to watch both Mrs. Hudson and Harry for a moment in silence before he went and moved just his armchair closer to the couch, John could move his own after all, and they continued to sit in silence while John made the tea and Harry sipped his milk.

After a couple of minutes, John walked into the room and handed Mrs. Hudson her tea who nodded her thanks. Then he looked at Sherlock and said, while he shook his head, "You couldn't help me, could you?"

"Help you?" asked Sherlock, sounding and looking confused.

John shook his head even more at that and, after setting his own tea down on the coffee table for the moment, brought his own armchair closer to everyone, expertly moving around the mess that was on the floor, before picking his tea back up and taking a drink.

They all sat in silence for a moment, enjoying their tea and milk, respectively until they were interrupted by the phone ringing. Sherlock looked confused. When did they have a phone in the flat that wasn't a mobile? You couldn't text from one of those and he preferred to text.

John, however, looked a curious mixed between unconcerned and panicked. Sherlock never knew one could be unconcerned and panicked at the same time until this very moment.

"I forgot to call Sarah to let her know I was okay," he said getting up out of his chair, going over to the phone and answering it.

That statement caused Sherlock to roll his eyes slightly. Sentiment. He didn't think he would ever get used to it. He still chose to ignore what he was feeling towards Harry. He looked over at Harry.

"Who's Sarah?" asked Harry cautiously. Sherlock vowed to get rid of the cautiousness from Harry. At least when asking questions and talking to people. There was no need for the boy to be reckless.

"John's girlfriend, dear," said Mrs. Hudson as though she didn't believe that for a moment.

Harry scrunched up his nose and said, "Girls are gross."

Sherlock saw Mrs. Hudson hide her smile by taking a drink of her tea though Sherlock, himself, was seconds away from agreeing with Harry when he tilted his head to the side slightly and asked, "Why are girls gross? You're sitting by Mrs. Hudson after all."

Mrs. Hudson shook her head at Sherlock while Harry said, his nose still scrunched up slightly, though this time in confusion, "Mrs. Hudson isn't a girl. She's our landlady. Right?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Hudson with a grin and Sherlock couldn't help himself as his own lips turned upwards, "and I'm not anyone's housekeeper. Try to keep that in mind, Sherlock."

"Why Mrs. Hudson, I honestly have no idea what you are referring to," said Sherlock, straight-faced once again and repeated, as Harry didn't answer, "Why are girls gross?"

This was obviously something Harry felt very strongly about because he had no hesitation to look at Sherlock like he was an idiot, which was not a look Sherlock was used to receiving which caused Sherlock to become slightly taken aback.

"There's a long list why! First starting with," started Harry, passionately.

"Hold on a moment, Harry. Let me write this down, so we don't forget," said Sherlock looking around the mess on the floor for a piece a paper, seriously.

"How could you forget?" asked Harry, confused, thrown off course while Sherlock was looking for a piece of paper.

"It's not for me. It's for John. He must have forgotten if he's gotten a girlfriend, right?" asked Sherlock, looking up at Harry, raising an eyebrow.

Harry nodded his understanding and Mrs. Hudson looked like she was having a very hard time not laughing. John was oblivious to it all as he was on the phone with Sarah.

Sherlock nodded his head once and returned to looking for a piece a paper, a moment later he popped his head back up with both a piece of paper and pen in hand.

"Right. What is the first one?" asked Sherlock with his pen poised over the paper, completely ignoring how similar this situation was to just hours ago with his brother.

"First, they have cooties," said Harry nodding his head and shuddering.

Sherlock paused slightly as if he couldn't believe that he was actually told that by someone with a straight face, let alone had it actually said to him as it seemed like something Anderson would tell him, but as this was Harry he nodded his head once and wrote it down on the list, therefore missing the look that crossed Harry's face as it happened very quickly.

Harry then got up from the couch, placing his cup on the table, he was sitting on to make sure that Sherlock actually was writing and not pretending to just appease him. Mrs. Hudson had to take another drink of her tea to help soothe her chuckles that wanted to escape her.

"Next?" asked Sherlock when he was finished looking to his left where Harry was standing.

"They have girl germs," continued Harry.

"Are they not the same thing?" asked Sherlock, writing it on the list regardless. He looked back up at Harry and the you-are-acting-like-an-idiot look children like to wear was back on Harry's face and Sherlock was both pleased that Harry was learning that look but distinctly unpleased that it was directed at him. Anderson should have been the first one to receive that look from Harry.

Harry shook his head and said, "You know nothing about this do you?"

Mrs. Hudson this time could not contain her chuckles which caused Sherlock to scowl at her and Harry to looked at her confused.

Sherlock chose to ignore what Harry asked for the time being and Mrs. Hudson's laughter and asked, "Next?"

Harry, taking Sherlock's changing of the subject as a 'yes' to his question, said, somewhat indignantly for a five year old, "They're always trying to boss you around."

"You can't have that," said Sherlock smoothly and Harry nodded his head in agreement and they continued making their list until John hung up the phone.

John walked back into the room, after giving Sarah his new mobile number and assuring her that he was all right, his eyes taking in the scene of Sherlock sitting in a chair and Harry standing at his side, looking very serious at a piece of paper and Mrs. Hudson trying to contain laughter? John was confused. He walked over to them.

"What's this?" asked John taking the paper off of Sherlock and sitting back down in his chair.

Mrs. Hudson could barely contain her mirth. She could already tell that having Harry live with Sherlock and John was going to be a good thing and she would be as accommodating as possible with setting up their new lease and making accommodations.

Sherlock ignored him for the moment, looked over at Harry and said, "Shall I tell him or would you like to do the honors?"

Harry, obviously having gotten used to their company again – Sherlock always knew sleep was detrimental to one's brain work, this was more proof – said with a determined nod, "I'll do it. You might miss something important."

John looked at Sherlock amused but Sherlock was nodding at Harry quite seriously.

"That, John, is a list of reasons why girls are gross and should be avoided," said Harry looking at John very seriously.

John looked down at the list in his hand, trying not to laugh as Harry looked quite serious as did Sherlock for some reason, before he said, "You have over fifteen things on this list."

"It's not complete yet," said Harry.

"Yes," said Sherlock. "It's just a preliminary list."

Harry looked hesitant before he asked, slowly testing out the word and stumbling a bit at first, "Pre – preliminary list?"

Sherlock nodded again while this time John couldn't stop the amusement from showing on his face as Sherlock explained, "Yes. The first list coming before our main list that has all the reasons, so the list John is holding is the preliminary one. I believe those are just the important ones, right?"

Harry nodded his head in understanding and said, "Yes. I have a lot more reasons."

Sherlock nodded his head again, steepled his fingers together under his chin and said, "I thought so."

John coughed to hide his chuckles that wanted to come out and cleared his throat before saying, "Right, you can do that later, but I'm afraid it will have to wait. We have to make our new lease agreement with Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock."

Before Sherlock could voice his displeasure at the tedious work, Harry suddenly looked nervous again and said, "I won't take up much space. I promise."

Sherlock, John and Mrs. Hudson all exchanged a look before John said, "Nonsense, Harry. This is your home now. You can take up as much space as you need."

Harry looked shocked for a moment before he asked them all, eyes wide, "You mean I can sleep in an actual bedroom?"

Sherlock, John and Mrs. Hudson froze at that question. What did Harry mean an actual bedroom?

Sherlock decided to ask the question that was bothering everyone, but more gently than John or Mrs. Hudson had ever heard him ask anyone anything, "What do you mean, Harry, by an actual bedroom?"

Harry looked at them all embarrassed for a moment before he looked at the floor and mumbled something that no one could understand.

"What was that, Harry? And look up at us please, our floor isn't nearly as exciting as you're making it out to be," said John.

Harry looked up in surprise. If he were back at the Dursleys, he would have gotten told off for being disrespectful before being given a very long list of chores but here John made it into a sort of joke? Wasn't he angry? Uncle Vernon would have been furious and Aunt Petunia would have glared at him until he fixed it. His eyes widened even more remembering his aunt couldn't do that anymore since she was dead like his parents. His eyes started to water.

Sherlock, feeling that unpleasant sensation in his stomach again, and John, feeling a twinge in his gut, exchanged slightly panicked looks with each other, wondering why Harry was about to cry, before they looked at Mrs. Hudson to see she was looking at Harry sympathetically.

Sherlock and John looked at Harry and they watched as a tear fell silently down his face. They both felt their hearts and guts clench at the thought that a child had learned to cry silently.

Mrs. Hudson got up from her seat on the couch and walked over to Harry, got down to his level, ignoring the twinge she felt in her hip, and wrapped him in a hug. She felt him tense slightly before he relaxed into her arms a moment later as she whispered something into his ear that Sherlock and John couldn't hear.

"What's the matter, Harry dear?" asked Mrs. Hudson loud enough for Sherlock and John to hear her now and still hugging Harry.

"I just remembered," said Harry, more tears falling and not explaining any further. John got a sudden look of understanding on his face though Sherlock still looked slightly confused and Mrs. Hudson wasn't sure what exactly they were talking about.

"Remembered what, dear?" asked Mrs. Hudson.

"That my aunt was killed in the bank," said Harry, still crying.

Sherlock couldn't see what the problem was as he was sure that Mrs. Dursley wouldn't have shed a tear if Harry was killed.

"What's the problem?" asked Sherlock, confused, and John and Mrs. Hudson both shot him reproving, dark looks.

Harry not noticing the insensitivity of the question or the looks that Sherlock got for asking the question, answered, "Now I don't have no more family. My parents are dead. And Uncle Vernon don't love me and Dudley don't like me. It's all my fault like Uncle Vernon said." He continued to cry.

John looked over at Sherlock and saw that he looked to be in pain but if it was at what Harry revealed or Harry's improper use of the English language remained yet to be seen.

John got up from his chair to kneel beside Harry and Mrs. Hudson, who had moved away from Sherlock's chair at some point. Harry tensed slightly in Mrs. Hudson's arms but John smiled reassuringly at Harry before he turned to look at Sherlock very meaningfully.

Sherlock gave a long, suffering sigh as if he couldn't believe he was about to do what John and Mrs. Hudson had done but there was another twinge in his stomach. He frowned to himself, starting to have an inkling of what that twinging might be and noting it having nothing to do with what he was eating and drinking. He got up slowly from his chair and moved to kneel on the floor beside John, in front of Harry.

Sherlock, unsure what to do in these situations, looked at both John and Mrs. Hudson as to what to do next. John gave him another meaningful look that said, "You know what needs to be done so do it already."

Sherlock gave him the same look back and another one saying that he couldn't be expected to do all the work in raising Harry.

Mrs. Hudson and Harry watched them silently, Harry still crying, as they had their silent conversation, not knowing what was being said between the two.

Finally, at the same time, both Sherlock and John moved forward and hugged Harry and Mrs. Hudson, as she was still hugging Harry, so they were in a group hug.

After a moment of hugging, Sherlock pulled back slightly and said, "Let's think about what you said about your uncle logically, something I'm sure your uncle lacks."

Harry let out an aborted giggle that was drowned by a sob that escaped.

Sherlock paused, as if he were thinking about how to phrase his next sentence so it was child appropriate, and then after he apparently did, he said, "Now, did you know there was someone outside the bank waiting to kill people in the bank."

"No," said Harry wiping the tears off his face.

"No," agreed Sherlock ignoring the gasp that Mrs. Hudson let out. "Now, let's say that if you did know it was going to happen, would you, if it was in your power, done anything to stop it?"

"Yes!" said Harry right away without hesitation.

"Hmm," said Sherlock, unsure how he felt about that answer as it had the potential to be dangerous, especially in a child.

"And as for your uncle and cousin not liking you, well they're idiots," said Sherlock simply, as if there was nothing more that needed to be said.

Harry's lips turned upwards in a semi-grin at that.

"Sherlock," sighed John exasperated.

"What?" asked Sherlock, not sure what John was trying to scold him for this time.

"You can't just call his uncle and cousin idiots," said John, patiently.

"Why not? Everyone, with few exceptions, is an idiot. I would even go so far as to say they surpass Anderson in idiocy," said Sherlock.

John tried to maintain a straight face though he was failing rather spectacularly.

"I'm with Sherlock on this one, John. Anyone who doesn't like Harry is an idiot," said Mrs. Hudson.

John raised his hands in surrender and said, "I was just trying to play devil's advocate here. I never said I didn't agree with Sherlock's statement."

Harry let out a chuckle and Sherlock, John and Mrs. Hudson exchanged smiles at being successful in cheering Harry up.

"And as for you not having any family left, Harry, as someone in the Army told me once, family doesn't have to be blood," said John looking at Harry, Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson.

Harry sniffed once, as crying isn't any good for the sinuses, and said, "What does that mean?"

John smiled a little and said, "You don't have to be related to someone to see them as family."

"Oh," said Harry though John, Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson could tell he didn't completely understand yet.

"Excellent. While Harry ponders on that statement, shall we all go back to our chairs and discuss the lease?" said Sherlock, not wanting to say how undignified he found the position he was in but wanting out of it all the same.

John looked at him as if knowing exactly why he said what he did because John knew that Sherlock couldn't be bothered with what he deemed boring and dealing with a lease definitely qualified. Sherlock chose to ignore the look as he knew that both John's leg and Mrs. Hudson's hip were starting to bother them as well so they were likely to agree and Harry wasn't exactly comfortable enough with them yet to argue.

Mrs. Hudson nodded her head in agreement with what Sherlock said and started to get up before John, who got up faster so he could help Mrs. Hudson up off the floor, offered her his hand.

Sherlock got up next off the floor and he gave a hand to Harry, who also ended up sitting on the floor at some point, to help him up.

The four of them moved back to their original seats, Sherlock and John to their armchairs and Mrs. Hudson and Harry to the couch, although it looked like Harry moved to the couch reluctantly as he wanted to stay sitting by Sherlock and John.

When they were all seated, Mrs. Hudson picked up the lease that she brought up with her and had set on the couch and said, handing it over to John, "Where do you want to start?"

"Space would be the most obvious place to start," said Sherlock.

John nodded his agreement and said, "There are only two bedrooms. We're going to need three."

Everyone sat in silence for a few moments before Sherlock said, "The most logical thing would be to rent out the basement flat."

"Basement flat?" asked John.

Sherlock ignored him and looked at Mrs. Hudson and said, "I looked at it when I was looking at this flat originally. It's got the extra space we are going to need eventually." He paused for a second and then said with a slight frown, "Plus John said I have to move my experiments from this flat if Harry were to live with us."

Harry looked guilty but the reassuring look that Sherlock shot him made him feel better.

"And when I said that I meant that you have to do the more dangerous experiments somewhere else as well," said John nodding decisively and Mrs. Hudson was nodding her head in agreement to that and as to what else was said.

"Where?" asked Sherlock and he didn't sound like he was sulking. He didn't.

"Mycroft's house?" said John, making it sound like a question.

Sherlock's lips twitched upwards and he said, "Brilliant, John!"

"I was kidding," said John flatly though his lips twitched upwards as well.

"Nonsense," said Sherlock and he started making plans on what experiments he was going to perform first.

Harry was watching them with amusement now as was Mrs. Hudson.

"That's all doable and there are two bedrooms in the downstairs flat as well though I suppose you could turn the second bedroom into something else though we do need to get someone to come in and clean out the flat unless you boys would like to?" said Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh I was thinking of having Mycroft doing it," said Sherlock. "He owes me a favor after all."

John shook his head at Sherlock. He would never understand Sherlock and Mycroft's relationship completely as it seemed like they took sibling rivalry to the extreme.

Mrs. Hudson nodded her head and said, "Then all I can think of right now that we have left to deal with is how much more it is going to cost you."

They spent the next ten minutes discussing that as Mrs. Hudson didn't want to charge them too much more but Sherlock and John didn't want to put her out and talked her into a more reasonable price. After all, she was doing them a favor by letting them rent out the second flat as well.

"Well, that's that. Come down to my flat and I'll make everyone a late lunch," said Mrs. Hudson.

"You don't have to," started John.

"Nonsense. You've been gone for the past day and I doubt you have anything to feed a young boy. Come on," said Mrs. Hudson, standing up and starting to head towards the door.

Harry looked at them unsure before both Sherlock and John nodded at him and he got up from the couch and followed Mrs. Hudson, who started talking to Harry about getting his help to make some biscuits later on in the day or even tomorrow, downstairs.

Sherlock and John exchanged one final look before they got up to follow them downstairs, never knowing that this was the start of a weekly routine for the following years to come.


	11. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Background: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter. Note for this chapter specifically, this chapter is happening at the same time as the last chapter.
> 
> Betas: Lady of the Shards; Kyrianae Narii for advising me on pretty much everything U.K.

Chapter 9

"Well if it isn't Gregory Lestrange," said a voice in greeting.

Lestrade let out a strained smile, that being the second time today he heard the hated name, at the man who had spoken and said, nodding, "Tom. It's been a while and I go by –"

"I know what you go by now," said Tom, the man who was behind the counter and owner of _The Leaky Cauldron_ , nodding at Lestrade as well, "and who's fault is it that it's been ages since we've last seen each other?"

Lestrade tried to be apologetic but his emotions were all over the place and he ended up saying instead, "I've been really busy."

Tom nodded again and said, "I've heard you've been busy with the Muggle police. I keep up with their newspaper. You're mentioned quite a few times in it. A Detective Inspector." He gave an impressed whistle as he passed Lestrade a drink and said, "It's on the house for an old friend."

Lestrade snorted slightly, taking the drink and said, "Old friend. You've known me since the worst night of my life."

"Some would say that that was the beginning of your life then," came back Tom's usual reply.

"Then why do you keep calling me Gregory Lestrange every time you see me?" asked Lestrade, keeping his voice down. He knew what his brothers and his brother's wife were accused of being and where they were currently at and didn't want anyone to know he was related to them.

"You should never forget where you've come from even if it wasn't the best of places," said Tom.

"You come from a fine family and I'm pretty sure if my family knew I was alive they would very much appreciate it if I forgot where I came from and it would be even better if I died," said Lestrade, taking a drink.

Tom sighed and opened his mouth to respond but Lestrade cut him off and said, "I've had a rough couple of days, Tom, and I don't want to hear the usual things you and your father usually say to me. I've gotten over it, for the most part, believe me, and I want nothing to do with them."

Tom nodded his head in agreement with what Lestrade said and then hesitantly asked, "Do you know where you brothers are and what they are accused of being?"

Lestrade nodded stiffly and said, "I know and I have no doubt they actually did it. Remember what our parents did to me when they found out about me being a Squib?" The last part was said quietly so it wasn't overheard by anyone, not that there were too many people in the pub to overhear anything but Lestrade thought it was better to be safe than sorry.

Tom swallowed painfully and said, "I remember. If it wasn't for your family's house elves…"

"I know. I'll be forever grateful to them. They probably had to punish themselves most severely for helping me," said Lestrade.

The both of them sat in silence after that statement for a few minutes before Tom asked, "So why are you coming into my pub and, I'm guessing, Diagon Alley when the last time we saw each other you swore you would never come back?"

Lestrade hesitated slightly before answering. He was sure no one was supposed to know where Harry Potter was located as that could be dangerous for the child and as they just discussed, Lestrade came from a family that was not the best. What was one or two omitted truths between friends that didn't hurt anyone?

"I have a –" Lestrade hesitated, again, as to how to describe Sherlock for a moment before settling on, "colleague who recently adopted," he was sure Sherlock would have Mycroft get the paperwork set up, "a magical child, I recognized the signs, and I wanted to pick up some books for my colleague so he doesn't get quite the shock when his Hogwarts Letter comes."

Tom looked like he didn't believe that Lestrade was telling him the whole truth but he was willing to go along with the story if Lestrade was for which Lestrade was thankful.

"Right. Come on," said Tom. "I'll lend you a cloak, it's still pretty dangerous out there, you don't want to be seen by some people dressed completely as a Muggle, and open the Alley for you."

"Thanks," said Lestrade, finishing the last of his drink and moving to follow Tom.

Tom just waved away his thanks and said, "How long do you think you'll be so I can open it again when you're done?"

"Depends how long I'm in Gringotts for. I need to exchange some money as I just have Muggle money," said Lestrade putting on the cloak that Tom had just handed him. He was thankful that at least this bank he knew he wouldn't be held hostage in, especially as he just left one, as someone tried to rob it.

Tom nodded in understanding and said, "Well, it hasn't been too busy today in here and you can't floo into Gringotts so I don't think you'll have too long of a wait. Tell you what, I'll open the Alley for you in two hours – that should be enough time, right?"

Lestrade nodded and said, "That should be plenty."

Tom nodded his head and said, while opening the Alley, "I'll see you then. Stay out of trouble."

Lestrade chuckled and said, stepping into the Alley, "I've got enough trouble in my life now that I won't go causing it. See you in a bit."

Lestrade turned and started to walk towards the large white building, the walk reminding him of the many times he walked the path with his father when he was younger before he ruthlessly pushed the memories aside.

He stepped into the building, nodding at the goblins, and walked passed the second set of doors. He looked around at all the goblins and decided to get into line in front of one of the busier goblins exchanging money, that way the goblin wouldn't pay that much attention to him and who he apparently was in this world.

He waited for about fifteen minutes before it was his turned.

He stepped up to the counter and said, "I would like to exchange Muggle Money."

"How much?" asked the goblin, not looking up from his record's book. Lestrade's plan was working thus far.

Lestrade, not knowing how much the exchange rates had changed over the years, just handed over one hundred pounds while telling the goblin that as well, hoping it would be enough for the day ahead or at least to get the most important books that he would need. He honestly didn't know how Mycroft thought just _Modern Magical History_ would suffice for Sherlock. Once Sherlock found out about the Wizarding World, he was going to want to get his hands on all the data he could.

"How would you like it? Just Galleons or would you like Sickles and Knuts as well?" asked the goblin, still not looking up from his book.

"A little bit of everything," said Lestrade. He figured he might as well show Sherlock, John and Harry the difference in money now as well. They would have to get used to it eventually.

The goblin made a notation in his book and counted out the money, handing over nineteen Galleons, sixteen Sickles and twenty-nine Knuts, which wasn't bad as far as Lestrade could consider since the last time he had to do this. Rates were going down.

Lestrade took the money, gave the goblin a nod and their customary farewell, which caused the goblin to look up at him in surprise as he was exchanging Muggle money after all, but Lestrade had missed the look as he had turned to leave right after he had said it.

Once Lestrade was outside of the bank, he stood in front of it to gather his thoughts and to take a deep breath. He could do this. It was just the book shop and then leaving the Alley. He didn't have to go anywhere else in here today though once Sherlock found out about it, he sincerely doubted it.

After one more deep breath, Lestrade headed in the direction of bookshop trying to think of all the books he should get that would help him explain to Sherlock what the Wizarding World was about and not just who Harry was to the people of the Wizarding World. In fact, Lestrade had no doubt that Sherlock was going to rip these books to pieces about their inaccuracies and he couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

A few moments later, he arrived at the book shop, _Flourish and Blotts_ , and walked in. He looked around. It hasn't changed much since the last time he visited the shop.

"Good afternoon," said the assistant walking over to him and bowing. It must have been a slow day.

"Afternoon," said Lestrade.

"Can I help you?" asked the assistant.

Lestrade shrugged to himself. It might make the book shopping go faster, he hated any kind of shopping as much as the next bloke, and so he nodded his head and said, "Sure." He told the assistant what he was looking for.

The assistant nodded his head and said, "Ah interested in our history, are you?" He started to head over to the books that he needed.

Lestrade shrugged and said, "It's for a friend." It wasn't a lie.

"I see," said the assistant, looking at the shelves. "Well, here is _Modern Magical History,_ " he handed it over to Lestrade to hold for the moment, "and here is _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Art_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twenty-First Century._ You're lucky these ones are all close together. We're redoing our system tomorrow." He handed the other two books over as well.

"Yeah," said Lestrade, unable to stop the unlucky feeling he was feeling.

The assistant moved to a different section, continuing to make small talk as he looked for the books that Lestrade requested.

Lestrade, himself, had never truly appreciated Sherlock's, and even John's, silence when doing something until this very moment. Lestrade would never complain again. Well, only if Sherlock wasn't too annoying beforehand he wouldn't complain.

Thirty long minutes later, Lestrade and the assistant, Lestrade didn't think the man offered his name nor did he wear a name badge like they did in the Muggle World, were finally done walking all over the store to collect all the books he wanted and finally he could pay and go. Lestrade walked up to the counter and the assistant put his books in the bag and told him how much it was. The price wasn't too bad and he still had some coins left over to show Sherlock, John and Harry. Now it was time for him to leave.

"Thank you for your help," said Lestrade gratefully, taking the bags of books. And he was grateful. He was sure that if the assistant hadn't offered to help, he would still be looking for the books he wanted. He just wished it was done sans all the small talk.

"It was no problem, sir," said the assistant, bowing once more as Lestrade took his leave.

Lestrade wasted no time in heading for the entrance back into the _Leaky Cauldron_. Even though he had fifteen minutes to spare before Tom had said he was going to open the archway, Lestrade wanted to sit by himself and gather his thoughts, now that he had actually _been_ back inside the Wizarding World again after all those years away. He also knew that he would be undisturbed as no self-respecting wizard would sit in front of the archway as most purebloods would never do business this late in the day and it was the middle of the work day for everyone else.

On arrival back at the archway, he sat down and took a deep, somewhat shaky breath, wondering how in the world this was all going to work out for him now that his past was starting to come back to haunt him.

* * *

Mycroft's office

Now that the immediate Sherlock crisis was handled at the bank as well as the aftermath and a plan was in place and being taken care of along with hourly updates, Mycroft could now turn back to the paperwork that he had abandoned when he first got news of the bank situation.

He was just getting through his first half hour of paperwork when his phone rang.

Without looking to see who was calling, assuming it was his assistant with an update, Mycroft picked up his phone and said, "Mycroft Holmes."

"Mycroft Holmes, what are they saying on the news about there being causalities at the bank? It's not Sherlock is it?" said the voice on the phone, sounding panicked.

"Mummy," said Mycroft trying to calm her down, he had forgotten to call Mummy to let her know Sherlock was all right, "Mummy, he's fine. I swear. It was the robbers and another hostage but not Sherlock. He's fine, unharmed and his usual charming self."

"Don't insult your brother when he is not there to defend himself, Mycroft. Are you sure he's fine? What about his flatmate and his Detective Inspector friend? Are they fine too? You know how he gets when the few friends he has are threatened or hurt," said Mummy in a hurry.

"Mummy," said Mycroft sounding placating, "I swear he is fine. In fact, I'll send him a message to call you so you can assess his health for yourself. Plus, he's got news he wants to tell you and I would hate to spoil that for him. As for his flatmate, John is perfectly fine as is Detective Inspector Lestrade."

Mummy let out a sigh of relief at that and said, "If you're sure?"

"I'm sure, Mummy," said Mycroft, smiling at nothing.

"That's good. What news does Sherlock have to tell me?" asked Mummy, now in her calm and collected voice that he was used to hearing.

"I would hate to spoil it for him, I really would. You should ask him that when he calls you," said Mycroft.

"His phone is broken and dead," said Mummy flatly.

"I've had a new one given to him before he left my office to replace his broken one," said Mycroft as if it were obvious.

"He didn't throw it away? Do you have the number?" asked Mummy and she sounded shocked when she asked the first question.

"No, he didn't throw it away and yes, I do," said Mycroft slowly.

"Give it to me," said Mummy at once. "If I wait for your brother to call me, I would probably be dead or have one foot in the grave. It would be much simpler for me to call him."

"True," said Mycroft after a minute of thinking about what his mother had just said. He gave her the number.

"Thank you, Mycroft," said Mummy.

"It is not a problem, Mummy," said Mycroft.

"I'll let you get back to work. Try not to work too hard and next time, inform me that your brother is okay and do not let me find out on the news!" said Mummy, sternly.

"Never Mummy and I will," promised Mycroft and they hung up.

A moment later, there was a knock on the door.

"Enter," said Mycroft.

"Sir," said Anthea. "We've got a confirmation from a representative of their Legal Department. Someone will be able to take the time to speak with you in three days. That's the best they said they could do for us."

Mycroft couldn't keep the snort in. Three days? This was important information!

He shook his head and said, "Very well. Have you heard anything about getting me an appointment to go out to _there_?"

Anthea shook her head and said, "They haven't gotten back to me yet, sir. Apparently, it's a different department."

Mycroft took a deep breath in and said, again, "Very well. Keep working on it."

"Of course, sir." Anthea left his office, shutting the door firmly behind her, which went to show Mycroft just how much his assistant hated getting the run around from those people.

He hated it as well but there wasn't much he could do about it right now until he actually _saw_ someone and he could let them fully appreciate _why_ he was called the _Iceman_ , even among coworkers.

Mycroft returned to his paperwork, wondering if things were just going to get worse with Harry Potter now in the picture.

* * *

Lestrade, after he had calmed his raging emotions of being back in the Wizarding World and just in time to be let in by Tom, who was on time to let him in, walked through the archway. He took off his borrowed cloak and handed it back to Tom with a quick thanks.

"You should stay for a late lunch," said Tom, taking the cloak and hanging it up on the rack that was beside the door to head back inside the _Leaky Cauldron_.

"I'll have to take a rain check," said Lestrade.

Tom raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"No, I will. I suspect I will be back, much sooner than I like after I give and explain certain points to my friend," said Lestrade.

"Friend? I thought it was a colleague," said Tom, raising his eyebrow even higher.

"Once you meet him, you'll understand my problems with classifying him," said Lestrade drily.

Tom let out a laugh and said, shaking Lestrade's hand, "All right. I can see you have had some rough past few days. Take care, Greg Lestrade."

"Later," said Lestrade, returning the handshake, and he walked back into the _Leaky Cauldron_ , through it and out the front door.

Once outside, he flagged down a cab to take him to Scotland Yard so he could get his car and finally go home and sleep. He needed it.

As soon as he arrived at Scotland Yard, he paid the cabbie, with a good tip as he got him there fairly quickly, and headed straight for his car. He unlocked his car, opened the door, got in and looked, as a habit he always had, over to his front passenger seat and noticed a mobile sitting there with a note on top of it.

Cautiously he took the note off the mobile and read it, before snorting. Of course, Mycroft Holmes would feel the need to replace his phone, creepy as it was to leave it like this, though he had a sneaking suspicion that he bugged it. He would have to have someone check it for him.

He decided to do one last thing before he left to go home, to get it out of the way now, and that was to call Sherlock and John to let them know when he would be stopping by their flat tomorrow.

Lestrade picked up his phone, which was fully charged, and went through the contact list, which someone had helpfully programmed to have all his contacts from his old phone in there, to find Sherlock's number. He called it. After ringing several times, it went to voicemail.

Lestrade decided to leave a voicemail, and said, "Despite the fact I find it very creepy that your brother left me a mobile on the front seat of my car, which was locked by the way, as a replacement for the one that I lost in the bank, I'm calling to let you know that I'll be by your flat tomorrow morning around nine to explain everything to you, John and Harry. I'll see you then."

He hung up and then decided to call John, just in case Sherlock ignored the voicemail. His call to John as well rang several times before going to voicemail, which had Lestrade leaving a similar voicemail to him.

That done, Lestrade finally drove home and slept.

 


	12. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Background: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter. Also you may have noticed this story now has a cover image. It's thanks to DreamweaverAki who took the time to draw it that I now have one! So thank you again! You did a great job!
> 
> Betas: Lady of the Shards; K from PaperPen Inc; and Kyrianae Narii for advising me on pretty much everything U.K. I should just call these three wonderful people my advisers as nothing would be completed without them. Seriously, they're awesome! :)

Chapter 10

Mycroft's Office

The next morning, Mycroft had just walked into his office, hoping that this day would be better than the past few had been, when there was a knock on the door that he had just closed.

Mycroft considered his hand, wondering if this was an omen for the day before he mentally shook his head. He was being ridiculous. He opened the door.

"Sir," said Anthea, without waiting for him to say something, shutting the door she had just walked through, still in the clothes from yesterday. "We've got confirmation. I've set up an appointment for you at three o'clock."

Mycroft had moved to his desk as she was speaking but froze slightly in the process of sitting down for a moment, before continuing and saying, "Very well. Stock up on the chocolate – both in the car and the office – for the next couple of days. Then prepare the car. After that, take a break. I'm going to need you later but for the moment, have your second take over."

"Yes, sir," said Anthea, making the arrangements on her phone, leaving the office to continue her work and set up her trusted second to take over while she rested from her two all-nighters, grateful for the break.

* * *

221B Baker Street - John

John woke the next morning with a stiff back. He had known sleeping on the floor of the bank was going to be a killer for his shoulder though he couldn't imagine how his back would be feeling right now if Sherlock had actually taken him up on the offer last night to let him sleep on the couch and let Harry sleep in his bed.

After they had finished lunch down at Mrs. Hudson's yesterday, the three of them came back to their flat to work out sleeping arrangements, something that John wanted to do without Mrs. Hudson's input, bless her. Luckily Sherlock agreed with him.

The first thing that was decided was that Harry was going to sleep in one of their beds until they got everything situated with the other flat and John would never forget the look that crossed Harry's face at that statement. He looked hopeful and guilty all at once. Hopeful – John could only assume as Harry wasn't talking to them about it yet and John was no Sherlock – that he was going to be able to sleep on an actual bed and not some mattress that was thrown somewhere – John had no trouble believing that the Dursleys did that to him – but guilty that he was essentially throwing either John or Sherlock out of their bed. Sherlock, who usually had very little patience to reassure someone surprisingly had been rather patient with Harry, and John reassured him quickly that it wasn't a problem.

The next thing that was decided was who was going to give up their bed. This took longer to decided, not because neither John or Sherlock were unwilling to give up their bed but because both of them were willing to do it and sleep on the couch. They had actually managed to get Harry to laugh again because they kept speaking the same thing at the exact same time which John only thought possible on the telly.

Eventually, Sherlock made his argument that John had already spent one uncomfortable night on the floor in the bank and his back, shoulder and leg couldn't possibly take a second night of abuse so the only logical solution was for Sherlock to sleep on the couch and for Harry to take Sherlock's bed.

John only agreed after being allowed to check Sherlock's room for toxic substances which caused Sherlock to mumble something about not putting that kind of materials in his room where he slept. He wasn't Anderson after all. John only rose his eyebrows in the direction of their fridge and Sherlock didn't say another word and let John continue his search. Once deemed safe, the matter was settled and they showed Harry where he was sleeping, to gain some familiarity with the room to reduce the chance of him waking up in a panic in the middle of the night. John was hoping that Harry would sleep through the whole night as he knew that it wouldn't work. He distinctly remembered his own panic in unfamiliar places until he could remember where he was.

Once that was done, a tour of the rest of 221B, that they were living in so far, was in order so Harry knew where everything was. Much to John's disconcertion Harry seemed to show the most interest in their kitchen table – where Sherlock's chemistry set was setup. He could practically feel the gray hairs start to sprout especially when Sherlock decided to stop the tour and teach Harry a little elementary chemistry.

John was going to have set rules. He could see it in that moment. Or else the whole building was going to explode now that Sherlock had found a willing playmate to help and teach.

John decided to leave them to it though as he was sure Sherlock didn't have any explosive material in the flat and started to work on his blog entry, to get his thoughts together to write up his first case with Sherlock, now that he finally had the time – _"A Study in Pink"_ sounded like a great title for it too – and to actually type it up. He was still a slow typist but he was hoping to improve with practice.

That was how they spent the afternoon until supper time when the three of them went to _Angelo's_ and when they came back there was a bag of breakfast foods that John knew were courtesy of Mycroft due to Sherlock's scowl and mumblings of "meddling brothers" and "need to check the flat for listening devices."

John and Harry had watched Sherlock do just that for a while before Harry sat down on the couch and John, shaking his head, put away the food. There hadn't been a need to waste perfectly good food after all. When he was finished he came back into the room and saw that Harry had fallen asleep on the couch watching Sherlock, who was still looking for the listening devices, some already in his hand. John had quietly interrupted Sherlock at that point and pointed to Harry and Sherlock had stared at him for a moment before Sherlock went into his room, shoving the listening devices in John's hand as he left.

John had stared after him nonplussed, hand holding the listening devices before he dropped them on the table as John had no idea where Sherlock had found them, for a moment before Sherlock had come back in with a spare shirt, to sleep in, Sherlock said and John had to agree. Harry couldn't sleep in those clothes or in fact keep them much longer. They were going to have to go shopping soon.

After an adventure in changing Harry, and it definitely was an adventure changing Harry that required the both of them, Harry was wearing Sherlock's shirt which came down past his knees. Sherlock then carried Harry into his room, making another comment about John's injured shoulder when he offered to do it as he had been rubbing it, and laid him down for the night.

While Sherlock was doing that, John had checked his new phone and realized he had a voicemail from Lestrade saying the time he was going to stop by the flat tomorrow. He told Sherlock when he came back out of the room who just nodded in agreement.

Then by some unspoken agreement, they both got themselves ready for bed and went to sleep after their exhausting day.

After he was done reminiscing about yesterday, John decided to get up and get ready. Lestrade was coming over early and John, he was about ninety percent sure Sherlock wouldn't remember, had to feed the three people in the flat before Lestrade came. He wondered what Harry liked for breakfast…

* * *

221B Baker Street – Sherlock

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling when he heard John start to get ready for the day. He was surprised John slept so long considering how early they went to bed last night. He had been up for an hour himself already at least. Knowing John, though, he was probably laying in bed and thinking about what they did yesterday.

He went into his mind palace to escape potential emotional backlash. He refused to think that Harry had started to make him _care_ so soon or at all. He needed to reorganize his mind palace and add new doors and wings anyways though he suspected he should wait until after Lestrade left. How dull, waiting on other people.

At that moment, he heard John come in the sitting room.

"Good morning," he said as he headed toward the kitchen.

Sherlock grunted.

"Tea?" questioned John unperturbed by his greeting.

Noise of acknowledgment.

Sherlock sat up and moved off the couch. He went and stood by the window for a moment looking out at the street below, silently contemplating about whether or not he could play his violin. He didn't know whether Harry was still sleeping after all.

His thoughts were interrupted by his bedroom opening and the sound of cautious footsteps coming out into the room. Well, that answered his question. He picked up his violin and started to softly play.

"Good morning, Harry," said John. "Juice?"

Sherlock barely controlled his snort that wanted to escape. They didn't routinely keep juice so that had to be in the bag that Mycroft's people left.

"Morning, John," said Harry, sounding cautious, and Sherlock was slightly shocked. He didn't think Harry would start to use their names so soon after telling him yesterday at dinner that it was okay to call them by their names. John, however, just smiled and Harry nodded and said, "Yes, please. Morning, Sherlock."

Sherlock bowed in acknowledgment, he didn't speak while he played, ever, and continued to play the violin as John poured the juice, handed it to Harry and then went back to making breakfast and Harry hovered between the doorway to their sitting room and the kitchen as if unsure what to do. Sherlock continued to watch Harry, who watched John, while he played.

Slowly Sherlock stopped playing as Harry began to fidget, still standing in their doorway. John looked up from what he was doing at the lack of noise.

"What's the matter?" asked John, knowing Sherlock didn't just stop playing only after a few minutes.

Sherlock didn't answer, he just looked at Harry and John followed his gaze to Harry.

Harry stopped fidgeting as both Sherlock and John stared at him.

"What's the matter?" repeated John, though this time directing it at Harry.

Harry fidgeted with his glass before he asked, looking at his glass, "What am I supposed to do?"

Sherlock caught John looking at him confused again but Sherlock had an idea of where this was going but he needed more data so he let John ask the next question.

"What?" asked John, puzzled.

"To make breakfast. What am I supposed to do? I always had to make breakfast for my aunt and uncle ever since I was tall enough to help my aunt and not burn it or myself," said Harry sounding like he was repeating someone.

As Sherlock suspected. Harry probably also had a long list of chores to do around the house and outside as well. He probably won't know what to do with himself now that he won't have to do chores. Well, more time for Sherlock to teach Harry. His gut twinged once. He really had to set some time aside to assess this feeling deeper and get more data on it.

Sherlock caught John looking at him again, with anger simmering beneath the surface of his gaze, rightfully so. No child should have to cook so young.

Luckily though John seemed to have an answer for this and was only looking at him to make sure they were both on the same thought process, he was incorrect of course, Sherlock was always steps ahead of John but he was willing to overlook it, and John said, "The only cooking you'll do here is when you are helping Mrs. Hudson with her biscuits and other treats."

Harry looked shocked and said, "Really?"

"Really," said Sherlock.

Harry frowned and said, "Well what am I suppose to do?"

Sherlock and John both frowned as well as they looked around the flat. They had nothing really that was child appropriate for him to play.

Sherlock, coming to the conclusion faster than John, said, "We'll have to buy you some toys when we go buy you some clothes as well later today."

"My own?" asked Harry.

Sherlock, coming to suspect this question, replied, without any hesitation, "Your very own."

Harry smiled at both him and John and they both returned it.

"For now," said John, "sit and watch some telly."

Sherlock sniffed and said, "There might even be something on at this time of day that won't rot your brain or fill it with useless data."

Sherlock saw Harry looked at him as if he had grown another head and John roll his eyes, turning on the telly and switching it onto something that looked like it was child appropriate.

Sherlock then watched John go back to making breakfast. He might even eat some of it, even though it was just porridge. Mycroft still had no taste in a decent breakfast food.

* * *

221B Baker Street – General

After an uneventful breakfast in which Sherlock did eat and they were all dressed, Harry back in the clothes that he was brought to Baker Street in, freshly laundered by Mrs. Hudson, and there were only a few minutes until Lestrade was due to come.

Harry was sitting back on the couch by himself, John in an armchair reading a newspaper while Sherlock paced around the flat.

"When will he get here?" asked Sherlock.

"Be patient, Sherlock," said John, "only a few more minutes."

"I've been patient all night," replied Sherlock.

John couldn't deny that. Sherlock definitely had been patient all night and hadn't tried anything though that didn't stop him from sighing.

"Sit down, Sherlock. You're making everyone nervous," said John, flipping the page, not looking up.

"You are the exact opposite of nervous," said Sherlock, looking John up and down.

"I hide my nerves better than you do," replied John, still not looking up from the paper.

"Am I making you nervous, Harry?" asked Sherlock, turning to look at Harry.

Harry looked at him, unsure.

"Don't answer that, Harry," said John, giving Harry a smile before turning to look at Sherlock with a slight frown and saying, "Don't put Harry in the middle."

"Afraid he'll take my side?" asked Sherlock.

John was saved from answering the question by the doorbell ringing and Sherlock disappearing downstairs to answer it, yelling at Mrs. Hudson that he got it.

John shook his head before he looked at Harry and said, "You'll get used to his moods. Trust me."

Harry nodded his head though he was feeling amused at their interaction.

The next second, Sherlock was coming back into their sitting room with Lestrade following him, his hands full of bags with a file under his arm. Sherlock hadn't even offered to help him.

"I'm telling you, Sherlock, it's creepy what your brother does," Lestrade was saying to Sherlock's back.

Sherlock just sat down in his chair and stared at Lestrade.

John sighed again and said, "What did Mycroft do now?"

"You mean besides leaving a mobile in the front seat of my locked car yesterday?" asked Lestrade, raising his eyebrows. "He decided to have someone leave the case report file I was going to get this morning from Scotland Yard in the same exact place as the mobile!"

John raised his eyebrow. That was definitely creepy.

"How did Mycroft even know you needed the file?" asked John.

"I woke up early because I remembered I needed to get it for Sherlock to look at. I must have said something to myself about it out loud. Boundaries, Sherlock! Boundaries are all I'm asking for. Tell your brother," said Lestrade.

Sherlock made a noise that could have been taken for an agreement.

Lestrade sighed, knowing that was the best he was going to get. He looked around the room and spotted Harry sitting on the couch and said, "Hello, Harry."

"Hello, Det-" started Harry before Lestrade interrupted him.

"You can call me, Greg, for now, Harry. Detective Inspector Lestrade is such a mouthful," said Lestrade giving Harry a wink.

Harry gave Lestrade a small smile and said, "Hello, Greg."

"Why Greg?" asked Sherlock with a curious look on his face.

Lestrade looked over at him, rolling his eyes at Sherlock's curious look, before he said, "It's my name."

Sherlock's face went blank at that.

John looked at him amused before he said, "Did you think he was just called Lestrade?"

Sherlock gave him a look and said, "Don't be ridiculous. To me, the most important part of his name was 'Inspector' why would I need anything else?"

Lestrade rolled his eyes again.

"Common courtesy," said John simply.

"Boring," said Sherlock. He then turned his eyes back to Lestrade, having moved them to look at John, and said, "Well? I assume you got everything you needed judging by the bags full of books you have, though I know my brother only wrote down one book on the piece of paper."

Lestrade neatly sidestepped the question for the moment as he set the bags down and said, "Don't you want to look at the case file first from the case that I stopped in to get your help from before we went to the bank?" He took the file from underneath his arm and held it in front of him like a lifeline.

For a moment, Sherlock looked torn. Despite his reluctance the other day, the case was intriguing but this was even more intriguing and the answers were right in front of him.

"You're stalling," said Sherlock, looking away from the file with a little bit of difficulty.

Lestrade let out a sigh now as he set the file down on the coffee table which was still cluttered and John and Harry watched him curiously. He moved over to the door that led to the steps downstairs and shut it.

"What I'm about to tell you, you can tell no one else. There are a lot of secrecy laws in effect and only those that need to know, know," said Lestrade.

"So it stays between the four of us?" asked John while Sherlock steepled his fingers under his chin, watching Lestrade, looking for signs of a lie or anything else.

"Yes," said Lestrade.

"And Mycroft knows," added Sherlock and Lestrade nodded his head.

"We can't tell Mrs. Hudson?" asked Harry, wide-eyed. He had never been involved in something like this before.

"No," said Lestrade shaking his head at him. "It's very important that you don't tell her, at least for now, or anyone else."

"What?" asked Sherlock, slightly impatiently. He couldn't figure out the secret from Lestrade's body language (mildly uncomfortable but that could have been due to Sherlock's intense stare), speech (rate, pressure and tone were all normal), clothes (freshly laundered, not even dirt on his shoes) or any of his other methods.

Lestrade went over to one of the bags and took out a book, the title hidden from everyone.

He walked closer to Sherlock as he said, "This is the book that Mycroft wanted me to get yesterday, ' _Modern Magical History.'_ "

Sherlock sat up straighter in his chair at that, John blinked as if he was sure he misheard the title while Harry gasped in surprise.

Lestrade took a deep breath as he handed the book over to Sherlock who reached out a hand to take the book, turned to look at Harry and said, "You're a wizard, Harry."

* * *

Mycroft's Office

Several hours, reports, missions directives and top secret meetings later, which was business as usual, there was a knock on Mycroft's door.

"Enter," said Mycroft.

"Sir," said Anthea, walking in the office, in a different outfit and looking refreshed.

"Anthea, you're looking refreshed," said Mycroft, nodding. He needed his assistant in top form.

"Thank you, sir," said Anthea.

"What's the news," said Mycroft, putting his pen down that he had just used to sign his name.

"He's survived," said Anthea, simply.

"I see," said Mycroft pensively. "Make time in the schedule this week so we can visit him while he is still in the hospital."

"Yes, sir," said Anthea making a notation on her phone. She looked up and continued, "Also, Detective Inspector Lestrade is at Baker Street right now with several bags full of books and a case file. According to the device in his mobile, he is beginning to tell Sherlock Holmes, Doctor John Watson and Harry Potter everything that he knows."

Mycroft was quiet for a moment before he said, "Understood." That obviously concludes his business here until his meeting. "Make sure the driver is ready to go to Baker Street. It's time to leave."

"Yes, sir," said Anthea nodding her head, leaving the office to do just that.

Mycroft leaned back in his chair, thinking. ' _Everything's about to change.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: So it's been a year since I've started this story... And what a year right? Seriously this is the most I've written for a story like this as I usually loose inspiration for stories and/or just stop writing. I seriously feel accomplished. The next chapter we will find out the reactions of Lestrade's little bomb...


	13. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Background: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter. Note for this chapter specifically, this chapter is happening at the same time as the last chapter, at least the first part.
> 
> Betas: Lady of the Shards and Kyrianae Narii for advising me on pretty much everything U.K. on fanfiction.net

Chapter 11

221B Baker Street – Harry – Before Breakfast

Harry woke up with a start and slight panic, not recognizing the blurry ceiling as being the one of his cupboard, unsure of where he was. He managed, however, to keep any noise from escaping his mouth. He didn't want to disturb anyone.

He stuck his hand out, reaching for his glasses, hoping they were beside him so he could see and find out where he was. He found them, stuck them on his face and sat up in the bed. He looked around in a panic until he recognized and remembered where he was.

He was in Sherlock's bedroom at Baker Street. He remembered the dresser from yesterday.

He felt a strange sensation in his chest.

It wasn't a dream. Yesterday wasn't a dream. The things that happened yesterday wasn't a dream.

He was really part of a bank robbery. He is really staying with Sherlock and John now and Mrs. Hudson too.

Aunt Petunia is really dead.

Harry's eyes teared up a little before he swiped a hand over them.

Aunt Petunia wouldn't have cared if he died. He knew she wouldn't have. How many times had she told him?

Harry sniffed a little before he looked down at the bed he was sitting on. It was the most comfortable bed he slept on in his entire short life. He wondered why Sherlock would give up his own comfy bed to him when Harry could have slept somewhere else. Even John was willing to give up his bed for him. Why would they do that?

He looked towards the door when he heard movement coming from the stairs. Did that mean John was awake? Did he have to get up and cook breakfast now?

He moved over to the edge of the bed and carefully got off of it without making a noise. He looked down at his legs when he felt a shirt brush them. He was wearing someone's shirt. He wondered whose it was. It felt comfortable.

He walked cautiously over to the door and spent a minute debating about whether to open it or not, doubts running through his head.

Grabbing hold of his courage, like he does when he has to face Uncle Vernon when he's angry, he opened the door and started to walk cautiously out into the room.

He heard the sound of soft music start to play as soon as he started to walk into the room. He turned the corner and saw that it was Sherlock playing and he stopped and stared for a moment. Sherlock had said he played but Harry didn't think he was going to start playing so soon or that he was good.

Then John said good morning and asked him if he wanted juice.

And here was the first test, to call John – John out loud – or to call him Doctor Watson as it seemed the proper thing to do, even though last night John and Sherlock both said that Harry could call them John and Sherlock.

Harry decided to just go for it and he said, "Morning, John." As John smiled at him, Harry nodded his head and said, Yes, please." He then turned towards Sherlock and said, "Morning, Sherlock."

Sherlock bowed his head in acknowledgment but he didn't say anything. He said yesterday that he didn't speak while he was playing. Ever.

John handed him a glass of juice and went back to making breakfast.

Harry stood in the doorway to the kitchen, unsure of what to do, fiddling with the cup of juice in his hand. Should he offer to help? Should he start making things? Would they get mad if he didn't do anything?

Slowly the sound of music stopped, but Harry hardly noticed, too worked up about his problem.

"What's the matter?" John asked Sherlock.

Harry didn't hear Sherlock's answer as he was still thinking of questions and possibilities that could happen if he didn't do anything to help make breakfast.

When he felt and saw both Sherlock and John staring at him, Harry stopped fidgeting, afraid he had done something wrong.

"What's the matter?" John repeated, directing it at him, much to Harry's shock. No one ever asked him what was wrong before.

But that didn't mean he had an answer ready. He started to fiddle with his glass of juice again before he asked, "What am I suppose to do?"

Harry was looking down at his glass so he missed anything that Sherlock and John were doing but then John asked, "What?" which caused Harry to look up at them both and explain further.

"To make breakfast. What am I supposed to do? I always had to make breakfast for my aunt and uncle ever since I was tall enough to help my aunt and not burn it or myself," said Harry, repeating what his aunt and uncle had always told him since he started to cook.

Harry watched as Sherlock and John looked at each other, speaking to each other without actually talking to each other – like how certain teachers can talk to each other without speaking a word.

Then John turned to look at him and said, "The only cooking you'll do here is when you are helping Mrs. Hudson with her biscuits and other treats."

Harry felt shocked and said, unbelievably, "Really?"

"Really," said Sherlock, finally saying something.

Harry frowned in confusion then and said, "Well what am I suppose to do?"

Harry watched as Sherlock and John frowned as one and think for a few minutes before Sherlock said, "We'll have to buy you some toys when we go buy you some clothes as well later today."

Harry was shocked again and asked, "My own?"

Without pausing, Sherlock said, "Your very own."

Harry had no words for them so he smiled causing them both to return it, though Sherlock's was smaller than John's.

Then John said to him, "For now sit and watch some telly."

Sherlock added, "There might even be something on at this time of day that won't rot your brain or fill it with useless data."

Harry stared at Sherlock as if he grown another head, not sure if he was actually joking or not.

While John finished up breakfast, Harry watched the telly with Sherlock, who was making comments about how the shoes were the causes of all the problems. Harry had no idea where Sherlock got his information, though watching him was just as amusing as watching the telly.

A few minutes later, John said breakfast was done and since the kitchen table was a mess with Sherlock's chemistry set and experiments, John brought it into the sitting room and they ate in there without a word being exchanged. It was quite comfortable, not awkward when he shared a meal with his aunt, uncle and cousin. Harry found himself enjoying it a lot.

Just as they finished eating, Mrs. Hudson knocked on their door.

"Woo hoo, boys! I've got Harry's clothes and they're freshly laundered," said Mrs. Hudson, holding up Harry's clothes. She handed the clothes to John who had stood up to take all of their bowls to the kitchen and was on his way back into the sitting room. "Take care, boys, I've got to get back to my baking," said Mrs. Hudson giving them all a smile and a wave before turning and going back down the stairs.

After Mrs. Hudson's left, John turned to Sherlock and said, "Lestrade should be here soon. We should get changed."

Sherlock made a noise as John handed Harry his clothes to change back into. Harry was unsure if Sherlock was agreeing or not.

It was probably an agreement because the three of them went to change at the same time, Harry in the bathroom since Sherlock needed his room to get his clothes, and they all came back out into the sitting room to wait – John reading the newspaper, Sherlock pacing and Harry, himself, just sitting on the couch watching them. It was almost as entertaining as watching telly before breakfast. Especially the conversation they were having with each other until –

"Am I making you nervous, Harry?" asked Sherlock, turning to look at Harry.

Harry looked at Sherlock, unsure.

John turned to look at him at that, gave him a little smile and said, "Don't answer that, Harry." He then turned to look at Sherlock and Harry couldn't see his face anymore, and said, "Don't put Harry in the middle."

At once Sherlock came back with, "Afraid he'll take my side?"

Harry looked back and forth at them, reminded of several talks between kids at school being similar to this.

Harry looked at John waiting for his answer, unsure of his own answer – he didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings – when there was the sound of the doorbell ringing and Sherlock disappearing in a blink, yelling at Mrs. Hudson that he got it.

John was shaking his head, with a fond look on his face – similar to those teachers would wear when kids did something they thought was amusing – before he turned to look at him and said, "You'll get used to his moods. Trust me."

Harry nodded his head and he couldn't help but feel amused at their interactions. They seemed like the very best of friends and he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever have that.

Sherlock came back into the room after that with the Detective Inspector following him, his hands full of bags and some sort of file under his arm. Harry wondered if he should help him though the Detective Inspector didn't seem bothered by the bags in his hand as he was speaking to Sherlock's back.

"I'm telling you, Sherlock, it's creepy what your brother does," he said.

Harry was confused for a second before he remembered who Sherlock's brother was. The creepy man with the umbrella.

Sherlock just sat down in his chair and stared at the Detective Inspector.

John, however, just sighed and said, "What did Mycroft do?"

Even Mycroft was a creepy name.

Lestrade responded back immediately with, "You mean besides leaving a mobile in the front seat of my locked car yesterday? He decided to have someone leave the case report file I was going to get this morning from Scotland Yard in the same exact place as the mobile!"

While Harry didn't understand all of that, he understood that it was creepy to leave something somewhere locked. He was starting to like this Mycroft person less and less, though he probably shouldn't judge him based on other people – everyone always did that to him.

Then John asked, "How did Mycroft even know you needed the file?"

"I woke up early because I remembered I needed to get it for Sherlock to look at. I must have said something to myself about it out loud. Boundaries, Sherlock! Boundaries are all I'm asking for. Tell your brother," said Lestrade.

Harry thought that was a good idea. Maybe someone just needed to tell Mycroft about boundaries as he had forgotten about it. The teachers at school always said to be respective of other's space after all.

Harry heard Sherlock make a noise that again could have been either an agreement or disagreement, Harry wasn't sure. Sherlock was harder to read than his Uncle Vernon.

Harry then heard the Detective Inspector sigh, saw him look around the room and spot him sitting on the couch. The Detective Inspector smiled slightly at him and said, "Hello, Harry."

"Hello, Det-" started Harry before the Detective Inspector interrupted him.

"You can call me, Greg, for now, Harry. Detective Inspector Lestrade is such a mouthful," said Lestrade giving Harry a wink.

Harry gave him a small smile and said, "Hello, Greg."

Then Sherlock asked why Greg.

Harry just stared at Sherlock. How could he not know Greg's name? He seemed like he was friends with him. Was he not? Was Greg mad?

Harry looked at him but Harry thought he had a look of fondness and irritation on his face or maybe the word that started with the 'ex' sound that he couldn't pronounce yet.

Then Sherlock asked Greg about the bags full of books that he was carrying and about the title of a book. Harry wondered what that was about.

Though Greg answered by asking if Sherlock wanted to look at the case file, holding it out to him after he set down the bags of books, to solve a crime and Harry remembered that Sherlock said yesterday that he was a Consulting Detective and Harry wondered if he would take the file and solve the case now.

Harry looked at Sherlock's face and saw that he looked torn like Dudley usually did when he was trying to decide between different candies, before he eventually said, looking away from the file, "You're stalling."

Harry watched Greg curiously as he let out another sigh and set the file down on the coffee table, which was cluttered with things. Harry watched as Greg moved over to the door that led to the steps downstairs and shut it.

"What I'm about to tell you, you can tell no one else. There are a lot of secrecy laws in effect and only those that need to know, know," said Greg.

"So it stays between the four of us?" asked John.

"Yes," said Greg.

"And Mycroft knows," added Sherlock, Harry saw that his fingers were steepled under his chin, and Greg nodded his head in acknowledgment to what was said.

"We can't tell Mrs. Hudson?" asked Harry, wide-eyed as the thought occurred to him. He had never been involved in something like this before.

"No," said Greg shaking his head at him. "It's very important that you don't tell her, at least for now, or anyone else."

"What?" asked Sherlock and Harry thought he sounded impatient.

Harry watched as Greg went over to one of the bags and took out a book, the title hidden from everyone in the room.

Then he walked closer to Sherlock as he said, "This is the book that Mycroft wanted me to get yesterday, ' _Modern Magical History.'_ "

Sherlock sat up straighter in his chair at that, John blinked as if he was sure he misheard the title while Harry gasped in surprise.

Harry watched as Greg took a deep breath as he handed the book over to Sherlock, who reached out a hand to take the book. Then he turned to look at him and said, "You're a wizard, Harry."

_'Impossible.'_

* * *

221B Baker Street – General

There was a ringing silence throughout the flat at that pronouncement as the three people now residing in the flat didn't expect that to be what Lestrade was going to tell them.

However, to John's surprise, it wasn't Sherlock who spoke first, though that was just because he wasn't quick enough.

Harry had beaten everyone to the punch and said, "I'm a wi– There's no such thing! Uncle Vernon said so!"

Sherlock snorted derisively and said, "We've already established that your uncle is an idiot, Harry." Sherlock turned to look at Lestrade and continued, "On a whole other level than Anderson."

Lestrade winced at the comparison while John sighed and said, "Sherlock." Harry stared at them.

"Aunt Petunia said so too," said Harry quietly. "She said anyone who believed in wizards and witches and magic was freaks."

There was silence between the three men for a moment, Lestrade knowing for sure why Harry's aunt would have said that while Sherlock could only have hypothesize, very strongly, why she would have but would need more data and simultaneously making plans to improve Harry's grammar and John, having a sibling himself, knew right away though not the reason for sure.

Sherlock wouldn't say anything until he was sure of his deduction, one hundred percent, and John and Lestrade had more decorum than to say anything insensitive to a child, so there was an awkward silence between them until, Sherlock, of course, broke the silence.

"How can you be sure that Harry is what you call a wizard? And what _is_ a wizard?" asked Sherlock of Lestrade, steepling his fingers back under his chin while looking at the book now lying in his lap, watching the picture move across the cover intently.

"You've seen the evidence in the bank," said Lestrade.

"The bullets?" asked John while Sherlock stared at Lestrade.

"Yes," said Lestrade and he turned to Harry, ignoring Sherlock's stare, and said, "You stopped them and saved our lives."

Harry shook his head in denial.

Sherlock asked, skeptically, "With magic?"

"You did," said Lestrade, kindly to Harry before continuing to Sherlock, "Yes."

"How can you be sure it was Harry?" asked Sherlock. "I'm not saying I believe you quite yet but how can you know it was Harry who stopped the bullets when there were ten other hostages in the bank and four hostage-takers as well who could have done something?"

Lestrade shook his head and said, "The only other one who could have done it would have been the Dursley child. Adults need their wands to perform magic, especially with accuracy, and no one had any wands – you would have known. What you saw was what magical people call accidental magic. It happens when a child's emotions get the best of them – usually in highly charged emotional situations."

"Like when they are scared?" asked Sherlock.

"Yes," said Lestrade.

"Extremely happy?"

"Yes."

"Angry?"

"Yes."

"Is it called accidental because it is uncontrolled?" asked Sherlock.

"No because the caster has no control over when it's cast or how powerful it is until they are trained," countered Lestrade.

"I'm not saying I believe you quite yet but how does one get control over their magic if one has it?" asked Sherlock leaning forward in his chair.

"No," said Lestrade at once, firmly.

Sherlock raised his eyebrow and John and Harry looked at Lestrade confused.

"That doesn't answer the question that I asked," said Sherlock, staring at Lestrade.

"No, you will not experiment on Harry's magic," said Lestrade firmly to Sherlock.

Sherlock stared hard at Lestrade and noticed something in Lestrade's gaze that he couldn't read, but was devastating all the same to Lestrade, making it important that Sherlock agree to this and mean it.

Sherlock considered lying and doing it anyway but something stopped him - the respect that he had for Lestrade - and he nodded his head in agreement, meaning it.

Lestrade nodded and was about to open his mouth and say something when Harry, who was still sitting on the couch, said, "But I don't have magic! How could I? Wouldn't I have turned Dudley into a toad every time he tried to beat me up? Or how about when Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon tried to lock me in my cupboard without food when I was bad?"

John sucked in a breath and looked at Sherlock who's gaze had narrowed in at Harry, who didn't seem to realize what he had just said.

Lestrade looked at John and Sherlock quickly before he looked at Harry. He then moved to kneel in front of him and said, "Harry, it doesn't work like that but I want you to think carefully, all right? Have you ever made something happen whenever you were scared or upset?"

John and Sherlock, unable to do anything about the revelation of the cupboard right now - and anger wouldn't help in this situation as it was delicate enough - though by no means forgetting about it, turned to look at Harry who was looking at Lestrade, who was giving Harry an encouraging look.

Harry thought about it, really thought about it. Besides the bank yesterday with the bullets, there were a few other times that something happened when he was scared, upset and even once when he was happy.

Harry looked at them all, trying to gauge their reactions, and said, "There was a time I turned my teacher's hair blue in class. Though I didn't mean too!"

"It's okay, Harry," said Lestrade, smiling. "Any other time that you can remember?"

John and Sherlock watched silently if not curiously and a little disbelievingly.

"I – I'm always able to escape from my cousin when he was about to – to hit me. I just thought it was luck. Do you think it was my magic?" said Harry, almost whispering the last part, starting to believe though wondering if his magic was why his aunt and uncle were always angry with him.

"It very well could have, Harry. Did you find yourself suddenly out of his grasp?" asked Lestrade.

"Huh?" asked Harry confused as to what grasp meant.

"Did you find yourself out of your cousin's reach?" said Lestrade with a tiny smile.

Harry nodded and then his aunt and uncle would get mad when his cousin came home and told.

"Is that why my aunt and uncle were always so angry with me? Cause I have magic?" asked Harry.

Lestrade, feeling out of his depth and sure it wasn't his place to say, said, "I'm not sure, Harry."

Harry nodded his head though Sherlock and John narrowed their eyes at the obvious lie Lestrade had just told.

"So what _is_ a wizard?" asked John, looking at Lestrade.

Lestrade sighed at the subject jumping, got up from his kneeling position, turned to face John and said, "I've never been asked that question before. I've always thought of them as just human being but with an extra power."

Sherlock's lip twitched though he said nothing and John and Harry continued to watch and listen to him for more information.

"I suppose," continued Lestrade, "that you could say that a wizard is just like a normal person but they are born with the ability to manipulate certain energies, giving them special perks."

"They?" asked Sherlock, looking at Lestrade, completely ignoring for the moment what the "special perks" could be.

"Sorry?" said Lestrade, derailed from his explanation.

"You said 'they.' Aren't you a wizard?" asked John, for once following Sherlock's thought process.

John, Sherlock and Harry were under the assumption that Lestrade, too, was a wizard. How else would he know about it if it was as classified as he said it was.

But before Lestrade could answer a voice interrupted them and said, "Ummm... with the topic of your discussion, why hasn't a ward been placed?"

* * *

Mycroft's car - On the way to Baker Street

"Sir, I got a message," said Anthea who was sitting beside her boss in the car.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, indicating for her to go on.

"Apparently someone intruded while the Detective Inspector was telling Mister Sherlock Holmes, Doctor John Watson and Mister Harry Potter about _it_ and they have knowledge."

"Who?" demanded Mycroft at once. He had screened all of his brother's acquaintances.

Anthea looked up from her mobile to look her boss directly in the eyes and said, "Unknown."

Mycroft sighed and told the driver to drive faster towards Baker Street.

_'Nothing can go easy when it comes to Sherlock.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone! As I told some people last chapter, you can check my profile page on fanfiction.net, same pen name, for the progress on this story - along with my other ones - as I update my profile on the progress of my chapter writing regularly. I've got the next chapter written and the one after that halfway done and outlines for the next two so there should be updates flowing pretty regularly at least for the next couple of weeks, sans anything major happening in my life. So I will see you next Wednesday!


	14. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Background: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Betas: Lady of the Shards; Kyrianae Narii for advising me on pretty much everything U.K.

Chapter 12

221B Baker Street – General

John, Sherlock and Harry were under the assumption that Lestrade, too, was a wizard. How else would he know about it if it was as classified as he said it was.

But before Lestrade could answer a voice interrupted them and said, "Ummm... with the topic of your discussion, why hasn't a ward been placed?"

"Doctor Hooper!" said Lestrade, shocked as he didn't hear her come up the steps or open the door.

"Molly," said Sherlock, unflappable as ever even as John started slightly and Harry jerked towards the door, unaware that someone else had entered the room.

"I'm sorry," said Molly, quickly and gesturing with her hands towards the stairs. "Mrs. Hudson said I could come up and see you - she was leaving to buy flour for her biscuits as she said she was at a crucial part and ran out so she was leaving as I was about to knock. I have the," she looked at Harry, having noticed a child right away, "well – reports from yesterday that I knew you would want to see and I thought I could see how you were doing after your ordeal. I didn't mean to interrupt. I just thought that if someone else were to come up and interrupt your conversation, not that I meant to interrupt, that you could get in trouble with the Ministry of Magic and – "

"Doctor Hooper, slow down," said Lestrade staring at Molly as if he had never seen her properly before as did Sherlock, though it was less obvious, as did John while Harry perked up some. Det- Greg wasn't lying to him if this person knew about magic too!

"Sorry," said Molly again and then softly, she asked looking at the three adults, "So why didn't one of you place a ward?"

Sherlock was staring at Molly, assessing her in a new light, leaving it to John to answer for the two of them, "Lestrade's explaining everything to us. This is the first time we are hearing anything about," he hesitated for a split second, though no one but Sherlock could tell, before he said, "magic."

"Oh," said Molly before she looked at Lestrade as John and Sherlock, who tore his eyes away from Molly for the moment, determined to get more answers from Lestrade.

Lestrade sighed and said, "I can't. I can't do magic."

Molly got an understanding look on her face with a touch of sympathy, knowing at once why.

Sherlock steepled his hands under his chin again assessing Lestrade while John looked confused as did Harry.

"I don't understand," said Harry.

"How do you know about magic if you can't do it?" asked John.

Sherlock was staring at Lestrade and Molly, taking everything in before he said, "Before we continue, perhaps, Molly – you should put up a ward." He said that sentence as if it were the most natural thing to say and he said it every day.

"Wards aren't my area," said Molly at once but continued before anyone could say anything, "though I know a Charm that might stop someone from hearing anything if they were to stop outside the door."

She then took her wand out which caused Sherlock to immediately get out of his chair and move over to Molly quickly, stopping to stand just in front of her. John stared at it, unsure what to make of an actual wand while Harry started to look excited. Magic was real! They weren't making it up!

Molly moved back slightly at the invasion of her personal space but she didn't do anything but stare at Sherlock as he inspected her wand.

Sherlock's eyes roamed up and down the wand in Molly's hand, inspecting every inch. Finally, he said, "It doesn't seem like anything other than a piece of rosewood, about ten inches long."

Molly bristled slightly and said, "It's nine and three-quarters with good flexibility with a unicorn hair as it's core as well."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and looked at the wand again, inspecting it while John said, "Does all of that matter?"

"Yes," said Lestrade.

"No two wands are the same," added Molly who decided Sherlock had enough time to look at her wand and that it was time to put up some the Charm to keep others from listening in.

Molly pointed her wand at the door, and decided to actually speak the word of the spell instead of doing it nonverbal like she usually did, and said, " _Muffliato!"_

Sherlock, John, Harry and even Lestrade looked at her.

"What does that do?" asked John curiously, standing up and moving towards Sherlock, while Sherlock was looking at the door to see if he could see any difference - he couldn't. Harry was impressed.

"It creates a sort of buzzing sound so that you can have a conversation without being overheard," explained Molly. She moved to the door in the kitchen that leads downstairs and did the spell again.

"I've never heard of that spell," said Lestrade.

"It's not in any book," explained Molly. "It's something that is passed down through the houses if you know the right people."

"Houses? Did you know the right people?" asked Sherlock. John elbowed him causing Sherlock to look at him confused.

"No," said Molly, shaking her head, completely ignoring the question about the houses.

"Then how did you learn it?" asked Sherlock, ignoring the second jab to his side and letting Molly ignore his question for the moment, as long as she came back to it.

"I was always good at getting people to not notice me," said Molly with a self-depreciating smile. "Anyway, you should be able to open the door now so you can be able to see if anyone is coming up the steps. The Charm will cover the whole area."

Sherlock looked at the door and said, "How are we suppose to know if it worked? We did not see any flashes of light or see any sparkles."

Molly looked at him, unsure, and said, "Well how would you like me to prove it's working?"

"Do whatever you did to the doorway to me," said Sherlock at once, his mouth right now refused to form the word spell. There had to be a better word for it.

Molly looked even more unsure and said, "It's illegal to do magic on a Mug- on a person who has no magic."

"A who? What were you going to say first?" asked Sherlock at once.

"Muggle – it means someone who can't do magic," said Molly with a slight frown as if she didn't like the term.

"What if said person," Sherlock refused to say the new word as well – it sounded derogatory, "gave you permission?"

"It's still illegal. In fact, I could get in trouble for performing the Charm I just did as we aren't supposed to do magic in front of Muggles," said Molly, looking worried.

Sherlock waved a hand and said, "I'm sure Mycroft will fix it."

Molly frowned and said, "Who? Does he work for the Muggle government? The Magical government doesn't really like the Muggle government."

John was staring at the doorway and said, before Sherlock could respond to Molly's comment, "You said the spell should affect everyone on the other side of the doorway?"

"Yes," said Molly, nodding her head at John.

John nodded his head before he pushed Sherlock, who was still standing in front of the doorway, across the doorway and Sherlock had to quickly regain his balance before he went head first down the stairs.

When Sherlock had his balance, he turned around and saw John looking and saying something to Harry, though he couldn't hear what as all he heard was the buzzing noise that Molly explained prior. He moved closer to the doorway as John turned to look at him and Sherlock couldn't help himself as he said, "Fascinating."

John tilted his head at Sherlock, amused, and gestured for Sherlock to step back across so they could finish talking, which Sherlock did.

"Satisfied?" asked Lestrade.

"Can you show me more?" asked Sherlock, eagerly.

"I don't know if I can – there are rules," said Molly.

"Boring," said Sherlock, still looking as if Molly would show him more because he asked.

"I could go to jail!" said Molly indignantly.

"Sherlock," said Lestrade and John while Harry watched them, not wanting the new lady to go to jail cause she showed Sherlock some magic.

After a moment, Sherlock said, "Fine." He then turned to Lestrade and said, "Why can't you do magic?"

"Wait, Sherlock. Molly hasn't been introduced properly to Harry yet," said Lestrade, trying to distract Sherlock from getting the answer to his question.

Sherlock just stared at him.

"Manners, Sherlock," said John.

"Dull," said Sherlock, finally.

Lestrade and John sighed in unison causing Harry to giggle a little and Molly to smile faintly.

"Fine," said Sherlock. "Molly – this is Harry Potter," Molly gasped and her eyes shot towards Harry's forehead, something which Sherlock and John both noted, "we met him in the bank yesterday and he will be staying with me and John from now on. Harry – this is Doctor Molly Hooper, she works at Saint Bartholomew's Hospital in the morgue."

Harry looked at Molly with a small smile until Sherlock said she was a doctor who worked in the morgue. Then he looked horrified and said, "You chop up dead people?"

"Yes," said Sherlock.

"No!" said Molly, horrified.

"That's what the neighbors said around Privet Drive," said Harry with an accusing voice.

"I don't chop up dead people, Harry, I promise," said Molly.

"She does," insisted Sherlock.

"You're not helping," said John and Lestrade to Sherlock while Harry still watched all of them, slightly horrified.

"I'm telling Harry the truth," defended Sherlock.

"So is Molly," countered John.

"Is she?" asked Sherlock.

"Yes," said John, very pointedly.

"Let's get back to our discussion, why don't we," said Molly very obviously changing the subject away from her job. Harry didn't make a comment on it, still horrified at the prospect of knowing anyone who cut up dead bodies.

"I was trying to do that but someone said you needed to be introduced," said Sherlock. John rolled his eyes and Lestrade looked at him exasperated. "Lestrade, what did you mean, you can't perform magic?"

Lestrade sighed and said, "Do I have to answer? It's a touchy subject."

Molly looked at them all again before looking at the book that Sherlock was still holding onto that she just noticed.

"Is that ' _Modern Magical History,'_ Sherlock?" asked Molly before glancing again at Harry.

"Yes," said Sherlock.

Molly nodded, looked back at Lestrade and said, "I know it's probably difficult, Detective Inspector, but you should probably explain it. It will make explaining everything else easier as well."

Lestrade still looked reluctant so Molly continued, "It's the main part of what _it_ was about after all. The statuses."

"It? Statuses?" asked John while Sherlock and Harry were watching them.

"Let's sit down and I'll explain but I'll need your help, Doctor Hooper," said Lestrade.

"Call me, Molly," said Molly as she sat down while nodding her head as everyone else sat down as well– John and Sherlock on the couch with Harry after they both noted the uncomfortable look on Harry's face when Molly and Lestrade went to sit on the couch with him and so Molly and Lestrade sat on the chairs.

Lestrade nodded his head and said, "Call me, Greg, then."

Molly nodded.

"Yes, yes. Everyone knows everyone's first name. Can we move on now?" asked Sherlock impatiently waving his hand and narrowing missing Harry's head, who had ducked with John's urging, who had seen the imminent danger for Harry's head.

"Sorry. Sure," said Molly, looking contrite.

"Sherlock," sighed Lestrade.

"Don't be boring," said Sherlock, looking at the both of them, completely ignoring what they both said.

Lestrade and Molly exchanged a look before Molly nodded at Lestrade, who made a face, but said, "First before I tell you why I can't do magic, you need to understand the basic," he paused to find a word, "setup – if you will – of the Wizarding World."

Molly interrupted and said, "Yes, Sherlock, there's a whole Wizarding World."

Sherlock inclined his head slightly and Lestrade went on, "The first thing you have to understand is that to some people your status is very important – to others it means nothing."

"What status?" asked John.

"Your blood status," said Lestrade. "There was a –" he paused, again, shooting a quick glance at Harry before continuing as quick as he could before Sherlock could interrupt, "conflict, a really bad conflict, but I'll come back to that later.

"There are three main groups of blood statuses in the Wizarding World – the first are the pure-bloods."

Lestrade was tense when he said that but he was interrupted before he could say anything more by John who said, "Pure-bloods? What does that mean?"

"It's a social standing," said Sherlock.

"In part," agreed Lestrade, "but it's more than that. Technically to be a 'pure-blood' you have to have parents who were a witch and wizard and grandparents on both sides of the family who were a witch and wizard."

"You said 'technically,'" said John.

"Almost all, not all, but most of the old pure-blood families look down on families if they can't trace their family back to the very beginning of it with them having magic," said Lestrade.

"What of the ones who don't look down on families who can't?" asked John.

"They are considered blood-traitors," said Lestrade simply. "I'll get back to that later though.

"The next main group are the Muggle-borns which is when no one in the witch or wizard's family has magic blood at all."

"Something that these pure-bloods don't like," said Sherlock.

"Quite," said Lestrade and Molly, both together.

"The third and final main group are half-bloods which mean that a witch or wizard has 'Muggle' blood in their family – to most of the old pure-blood families it could be anyone in their family, to everyone else it could mean just that witch or wizard's parents or grandparents," finished Lestrade.

Sherlock, John and Harry were silent for a while, digesting what they were told before Harry asked, suddenly with curiosity in his voice, "So what would I be grouped as?" He struggled with the word for a second before he got it and said, "Muggle-born?"

"No," said Lestrade and Molly, again, both together, shaking their heads.

Sherlock, John and Harry looked at them curiously, waiting for one of them to explain.

"You're a half-blood, Harry. Your father was a pure-blood, your mum a Muggle-born witch," said Molly. "They were nice."

John asked, "How do you know that?" as Harry asked at the same time, with wonder in his voice, "You knew them?"

Molly smiled at Harry and said, answering both questions, "Yes. They were at school with me. They were older than me, obviously, and in a different house but they were nice. Well – once your dad deflated his head a bit."

Harry stared at Molly, trying to soak up all the words he could, hearing for perhaps the first time, good things about his parents.

Sherlock frowned, feeling something in his stomach – unrelated to what he had been feeling the past day – as Harry learned information about his parents. If his brother was here, he would say it was jealousy.

Sherlock changed the subject and said, "Molly, what group of the three would you be categorized in?"

"Muggle-born," said Molly. "Like Greg said, I was the first one in my family to be born with magic."

"Why didn't you stay in the Wizarding World?" asked John, sounding confused.

"What?" asked Molly, looking at him as did everyone else though Sherlock had a slight proud glint in his eye as if John were finally learning his methods from him.

"I'm guessing you have to hide your magic every day or else it would be pandemonium if anyone ever saw you. So why didn't you stay in the Wizarding World?" asked John. "There have to be jobs."

"There are jobs," said Molly, nodding her head in confirmation. "It's complicated."

Sherlock sighed and said, sounding frustrated, "It seems like everything in the Wizarding World is." He turned to Lestrade and said, "What about you? Why did you leave the Wizarding World?"

"What makes you think I left?" asked Lestrade.

"Where do you want me to start?" asked Sherlock.

Lestrade rose his eyebrows.

"The way you were defensive about it yesterday with Mycroft and your reluctance to talk about magic, in general, today are just the beginning. You body language practically taunt with unease, which means you are hiding something and you immediately become uncomfortable whenever it is brought up," said Sherlock.

"There's a reason for that," said Lestrade.

"Not to mention you keep changing the subject, the fact that your leg is now trying to tap out some song unknown to man in your nervousness and that was just the twelfth time you ran your hand through your hair? Also how about the name change?" continued Sherlock.

"All right," said Lestrade, running a hand through his hair again.

"Name change?" asked Molly while Harry looked confused as well.

Lestrade didn't answer her and instead said, "You know how I said Muggle-borns are a witch or wizard born to Muggles?"

Sherlock, John and Harry nodded.

Lestrade continued, "There is an opposite to that. Someone can be born to a witch and wizard and not have an ounce of magic in them."

Sherlock and John got an understanding look on their face, Harry still looked confused as to what that had to do with anything while Molly looked sympathetic, understanding that it was not as simple as that.

"Those that are born to magic couples without magic are called Squibs," said Lestrade, making a disgusted face at the term.

"And you are one of these?" asked Sherlock, raising an eyebrow, confirming while wondering if everyone in the Wizarding World had such derogatory sounding names.

"Yes," said Lestrade with a wince. "But to be born a Squib is different than to be born a Muggle-born."

"How so?" asked John, sounding slightly incredulous. After all, one can't be held responsible with how they were born.

"Well, for one Squibs are rarer," said Lestrade. "They are usually, but not always, born in a family that was considered pure-blood. For someone to have borne a Squib is a matter of deepest shame to some families. To others, it didn't matter though they had no idea of how to take care of the child's educational needs – as the education is very different for a wizarding child than a child who isn't.

"Some children were simply sent to a Muggle school close to where they were living though it was difficult as the child had to learn how to live in the Muggle world and the Wizarding World is completely different. Some children were left – abandoned on the side of the road or at orphanages. And there were still some yet who – who were killed."

"Your parents tried to kill you," said Sherlock, not needing to make it a question, reading his answer in Lestrade himself.

"Yes," whispered Lestrade, eyes going distant for a moment, reliving the moment his life changed, before he cleared his throat and said, "My parents were one of the old pure-blood families – one of the darkest out there."

"How did they try to kill you?" asked Sherlock, curious as to how magic people killed.

"Sherlock!" said John, giving Sherlock a look while Lestrade paled.

Sherlock looked at him before looking at Lestrade, noting his color, before looking back at John and said, "Not good?"

"Bit not good, yeah," said John.

Sherlock tried another line of questioning, "Do the magical people have an idea of what causes Squibs?"

Molly looked at Lestrade, who was still pale and didn't look like he was up to answering, and said, "No one knows for sure though there are rumors that it is due to the inbreeding between the old families so that they could keep their families pure."

"Inbreeding?" asked Harry, curiously.

"Later," said Sherlock, John, Molly and Lestrade, finally snapping out of his memories, firmly.

Harry looked at them all and nodded his head in agreement, knowing he wouldn't get an answer out of them before this "later."

Everyone was silent for a while before Sherlock looked at Lestrade and said, "So with the _events_ that happened in your life, I assume that you have been out of the Wizarding World for a while, correct?"

"Yes," said Lestrade slowly.

"How did you know about Harry's status? How did you know he was a half-blood?" asked Sherlock.

Everyone turned to look at Lestrade but it was Molly who answered, "Anyone who knows even a little bit about the Wizarding World knows all about Harry Potter."

Harry looked shocked as did John while Sherlock looked pensive.

"What? Why?" asked Harry looking at everyone.

Lestrade sighed and said, "First you need to understand something else. About fifteen years ago now, there was a man – a wizard, who thought that anyone not of pure-blood needed to – _go away_ for good – for all intents and purposes and so he started to gather followers to join him and they made it happen."

"There was a wa-" started Sherlock.

"There was a conflict –" interrupted Lestrade.

"You mean war," interrupted Sherlock, remembering all the unexplained deaths and unnatural amount of gas explosions that had happened a few years ago.

"I was trying to be subtle, Sherlock," said Lestrade.

"It's unbecoming," said Sherlock.

Lestrade sighed and, choosing not to argue, said as Sherlock, John and Harry listened carefully, "Yes, there was a war that was raging for a lot of years until on Halloween night, almost four years ago now, the war ended when the man – who was the leader – was killed."

"And who killed this leader?" asked Sherlock.

Lestrade and Molly didn't say anything. They just looked at Harry causing Sherlock and John to look at Harry as well, slightly shocked, even Sherlock though he looked skeptical even as he muttered something about there always being something.

Harry, seeing all the looks directed at him, said, "Me?"

Lestrade nodded while Molly said, while nodding, "You're known as the Boy-Who-Lived in the Wizarding World since that night."

"But I'm just Harry," said Harry, shaking his head, denying that there was anything special about him.

Before anyone in the room could say anything to that statement, a voice from the doorway interrupted them, again, and said, "You are much more than that Mister Potter."

Sherlock, John, Lestrade, Molly and Harry looked towards the doorway and saw Mycroft standing there, leaning on his umbrella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: Happy New Year's Day to everyone! See you next Wednesday!


	15. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Background: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Betas: Lady of the Shards and Kyrianae Narii for advising me on pretty much everything U.K., on FF.net

Chapter 13

221B Baker Street – General

Before anyone in the room could say anything to that statement, a voice from the doorway interrupted them, again, and said, "You are much more than that Mister Potter."

Sherlock, John, Lestrade, Molly and Harry looked towards the doorway and saw Mycroft standing there, leaning on his umbrella.

"The creepy man with the umbrella," whispered Harry to himself, the movement of his mouth unable to be read by anyone as it was blocked by his hands, but Sherlock and John were able to hear him as they were sitting right next to him.

"Go away, Mycroft," said Sherlock, waving a dismissive hand at his brother though with a smirk on his face as John snorted, not even bothering to wonder how he missed Mycroft walking into his flat for now – Molly and Lestrade being much more interesting.

Mycroft looked like he was barely controlling his facial muscles from making a face at his brother but he couldn't help the eyebrow raise as he said, "Nice to see you again, Sherlock."

"Didn't we fill our monthly quota for meeting each other yesterday?" asked Sherlock.

"If only," said Mycroft.

"Shame," said Sherlock.

"I'm getting a real sense of the sibling love," said John to Lestrade and Molly, very sarcastically causing Lestrade to snort and Molly to quirk her lips for a second before looking at Mycroft nervously while Harry watched everyone.

"You're not from the Ministry are you?" asked Molly.

"Ministry?" asked John.

"No," said Sherlock at the same time.

Mycroft didn't answer. Instead, he said, "May I have the pleasure of knowing who you are?"

Sherlock's eyebrows rose and he asked, "You mean you don't know?"

Mycroft didn't say anything to him.

Sherlock smiled at his brother and said, "I'm making a special place in my mind palace for this. The day you don't know everything."

Mycroft was unable to stop the eye roll though he looked at Molly, waiting for her answer.

"Doctor Molly Hooper," said Molly.

Mycroft inclined his head and said, "You met Sherlock at Saint Bartholomew's."

It wasn't a question though Molly confirmed the statement by nodding her head and said, "In the morgue."

Mycroft didn't look surprised at the added statement. His brother met people in what normal people considered strange places.

"And are you a –" Mycroft started before he stopped himself.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. Mycroft never willingly stopped speaking for anyone.

"A what?" asked Molly.

John, Lestrade and Harry stared at Mycroft as well, wondering why Mycroft stopped speaking. It wasn't like him and even Harry could tell this after knowing him a few hours.

Mycroft didn't answer. He just continued to look at Molly, waiting for her answer.

Sherlock examined his brother, knowing him better than everyone else in the room, trying to get an idea as to why he stopped, for once having no idea. Then Mycroft made brief eye contact with him and he understood.

"He's asking if you're a witch, Molly," said Sherlock.

"How do you know that?" asked Molly, Lestrade and John at once, looking at Sherlock. Harry looked impressed.

Sherlock looked at all of them not saying a word.

"Right," said John.

Mycroft rejoined the conversation and said, "Doctor Hooper?"

Molly turned back to Mycroft and said, "Yeah?"

Mycroft prayed for patience as he sighed and asked, "Are you?"

Molly blushed and said, "Umm… Yes. Yes, I am."

"And you were helping the Detective Inspector explain?"

"Yes," said Molly still blushing.

"That's good," said Mycroft looking for a place to sit.

"You're not staying," said Sherlock at once, knowing what his brother was looking for.

"Alas, dear brother, I can help Doctor Hooper and the Detective Inspector explain," said Mycroft, resigning himself to pull a chair in from the kitchen area and sitting on it. He knew he would be of very little help to the Detective Inspector and Doctor Hooper explaining but maybe he could gather more information on _that_ night to help prepare him for who he was facing. Doctor Hooper, after all, was a surprise. A surprise, which, fortunately, was going to cause him to look closer at his people doing background checks on everyone coming in contact with Sherlock, - and now Doctor Watson and Mister Harry Potter as well - so maybe unfortunately for those people.

"Don't let us keep you from your prior engagement," said Sherlock knowing that his brother had business elsewhere and his flat was a pit stop.

"It's not until later," said Mycroft. "Plenty of time for my help." He sat down in the chair he just brought in, hating the legwork but knowing his brother would not do it. Mycroft looked back to Molly and asked, "Is this room secure?"

"Uh yes. At least as far as I could make it," said Molly, wondering why she was suddenly nervous. It must be because of this man – Mycroft who was Sherlock's brother, judging from their conversation – reminded her of certain employees of the Ministry of Magic.

Mycroft acknowledged what Molly said with a tilt of his head, having been on the receiving end of the annoying buzzing sound when he first entered the premise, unable to hear anything upstairs until he stepped across the doorway into the actual flat. Everyone sat in silence awkwardly for a moment though Sherlock was silently seething that his brother had invaded his home and was not leaving when asked. So typical of him.

Harry started to shift in his seat. He wanted to know what Sherlock's brother meant by what he said but he didn't want to ask, afraid that he wouldn't be as nice as Sherlock was.

Sherlock sent a glare at his brother for making Harry uncomfortable while John asked, "Something you want to know, Harry?"

Harry froze in his shifting as all the eyes in the room turned to him and he blushed. Harry disliked being the center of attention.

"You can ask, Harry," said Lestrade gently to Harry after a few minutes of silence from him.

Harry gathered his nerve and turned to Mycroft and said, "How?"

"I beg your pardon?" said Mycroft raising his eyebrow in Harry's direction, not following his train of thought.

"How am I much more than just Harry?" asked Harry, looking as if that was not possible.

Everyone in the room turned to Mycroft though Molly and Lestrade knew the answer to this question – they just wanted to see how he would deal with answering it.

Mycroft, however, turned to Molly and Lestrade and asked, "How much have you told them about the war?"

Harry instantly scowled. Sherlock's brother was ignoring him and treating him like every other adult – besides Sherlock, John, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and now Molly, so far – had treated him.

"Very little," admitted Lestrade. He had been hoping to breeze past it entirely so as to avoid his family's involvement in it.

"A wizarding war?" asked Sherlock for confirmation – he was in a whole new world after all and he had very little data to work with.

"Yes," said Molly with a slight tremor in her voice. "It was horrible."

There was silence for a moment as everyone processed the statement – a statement that made it seem that kind, sweet, caring Molly was part of a war.

Lestrade cleared his throat, distracting everyone from Molly for the moment, and said, "There is a brief summary in the book that you're holding, Sherlock."

"You can explain first and then I'll compare," said Sherlock, folding his hands over the moving picture and waiting for Lestrade to start. When it became apparent that he wasn't, Sherlock asked, impatiently, "What was the war about?"

Lestrade cleared his throat again and said, "Before I started to explain the blood statuses, remember how –"

Sherlock cut him off. "Of course. Molly said ' _it_ was over the statuses.'"

"That's not exactly what she said," started Lestrade again.

Sherlock ignored him and continued. "So the great wizarding war was over extremists?"

"One in particular who gathered quite a few followers," confirmed Lestrade.

"They didn't just limit themselves to the wizarding population though as you would wipe each other out. There can't be many of wizards," murmured Sherlock, more to himself than anyone else.

"You recall the gas explosions that had occurred in seemingly ordinary houses," said Mycroft. Sherlock nodded at Mycroft still thinking and Mycroft continued, "That was them."

"Despite what the Wizarding World likes to think, they are quite small compared to the rest of the world," said Molly. "So you are right that they would have wiped themselves out had they focused on each other more, though some families did. Especially to the ones that were considered blood traitors."

"And these blood traitors," started John scrunching his nose in distaste at the last two words, "they were the ones who were nice to Muggle-borns and Muggles?"

Molly nodded and said, "Essentially yes. They are considered traitors to everything of the _old ways._ I had a friend who belonged to an old family," added Molly anticipating Sherlock's next question on how Molly knew that.

"What did they do?" asked Sherlock, curious on how wizards went to war with each other.

"We won't get into major detail on what they did now, Sherlock," said Lestrade with a pointed look at Harry, who was hanging onto their words, not speaking, afraid that if he did he would have to leave the room.

"Later then," said Sherlock, acknowledging that maybe a five-year-old child did not need to hear the gruesome details of a war.

Lestrade and Molly made no promises.

"Who was the leader?" asked Sherlock next.

Molly and Lestrade paled slightly and exchanged a look before looking at Mycroft, who shook his head minutely, giving an indication that he couldn't speak it, though only he knew the true reason why he couldn't speak it. Honestly, it was just a name. The jinx spell only worked on _them_. Not people like him.

"Surely just a _name_ isn't too terrible for a five-year-old," said Sherlock with a mock in his voice.

"You have a lot to learn about the magical world, Sherlock," said Lestrade.

"Sometimes a name is far more terrible than you can imagine," said Molly.

Sherlock and even John raised incredulous eyebrows at this.

"You mean to say that an entire community is afraid of a name?" asked Sherlock, sounding extremely skeptical.

"No," said Lestrade.

"There were quite a few people at first who laughed at the name," said Molly.

"What happened to them?" asked John, fearing the answer.

"He killed them," said Molly simply.

Sherlock's eyebrow stayed raised as he said, "How could he have possibly known when someone said his name and then laugh about said name?"

"Sometimes a name is more than just a name," said Molly.

Lestrade continued and said, "The leader put a jinx on it."

"Jinx?" asked John and Harry, sounding confused.

"It's different than what you're thinking of," said Molly. "Not like 'you owe me a fizzy drink' kind of thing but more of an 'I can now track you wherever you go' kind of thing."

Sherlock took in the explanation and said, again, coming to the same conclusion as before, "So an entire community is afraid to say a name?"

"No," said Lestrade, again, shaking his head.

"There is one person who the leader is said to have feared more than anyone and that was the headmaster of the school where usually the students from the United Kingdom go and yes, there is more than one school throughout the world," said Molly, again, anticipating the question before it was asked.

"The old fool," said Mycroft under his breath, causing Sherlock to look at Mycroft, assessing him, along with everyone else.

Mycroft straightened up in his chair and said, knowing he needed to explain himself, "He gets under my skin more than Sherlock."

Molly frowned a little and said, "He's a little eccentric but he's not bad."

Mycroft stared at Molly and said, "He must make more of an effort if you're a student."

Molly blushed.

Sherlock stared hard at his brother and said, "Or maybe it was just you."

"I'll send him your way next time," said Mycroft.

"Please do," agreed Sherlock.

"Do not agree with me, Sherlock. It makes me worry for your mental health," said Mycroft.

"After all this time?" asked Sherlock.

"Boys? Can we focus? I thought Harry was the only child here," said John, interrupting them while Lestrade coughed to hide his building laughter and Harry stared at them, wondering if this was how all their conversations were going to go.

Mycroft and Sherlock didn't say anything and John sighed, turned to Molly and Lestrade and asked, "What's the headmaster's name?"

"If you can tell us," added Sherlock.

"Sherlock," sighed John.

"I'm only making sure, John," said Sherlock. "Names are apparently dangerous."

"He's name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said Lestrade with a frown at Sherlock.

"But almost everyone calls him Professor Dumbledore," said Molly.

"So this Dumbledore fellow calls the leader of the extremists by his name?" asked John.

"Yes," said Molly and Lestrade together.

"So it's not illegal to say," said Sherlock.

It was not posed as a question but Lestrade answered anyway. "No, it's not."

"So you can say it," said Sherlock.

"No one likes to," said Molly, though it sounded weak.

"You said he has been gone for three years?" asked Sherlock.

"Closer to four but yes," said Molly.

"Then I'm sure you have nothing to fear. The name?" asked Sherlock.

Molly was silent for a few minutes, visibly gathering her courage to try to say it before she said, "His name was Vol-" She stopped speaking and then tried again. "It's Vol-"

"Maybe you should do it quickly – like ripping off a plaster?" suggested Lestrade.

Molly tried one more time and said, "His name was Voldemort." Molly let out a shudder as did Lestrade.

Sherlock had a passive face as he stared at them before he asked, "Was he afraid of death?"

After Molly and Lestrade collected themselves enough, they stared at Sherlock blankly for a moment before Molly said, "Not that anyone was aware of. Why?"

Sherlock said nothing but he shared a look with his brother who nodded at him.

"What were his followers called?" asked Sherlock.

"Death Eaters," said Molly, unsure of where Sherlock was going with this.

Sherlock, again, said nothing and everyone digested what was said for a moment before Harry hesitantly asked, "What does this have to do with me and my parents?"

Molly and Lestrade exchanged a look before Lestrade said, "I only know what happened afterward."

"Right," said Molly, taking a deep breath before she continued, "During the end of the war, Vol-, You-Know-Who," Sherlock snorted at the title while Molly said it more comfortably than she did his actual name, "started to focus his attention on two families with babies – no one knows why, but he did."

Mycroft rolled his eyes slightly, which no one but Sherlock caught. He knew those families knew and one other person knew why but he wasn't saying anything.

"Some believed that it was because these two families, the parents, had survived encounters with You-Know-Who three times directly – something no one else had managed – and the babies were just collateral damage. Yet others believed it was because they were blood traitors. And still yet others believed that one of the two babies would have been You-Know-Who's downfall – but that one wasn't a popular belief. At first."

"Who were the two families? I'm guessing one was Harry's and the other?" said John.

"Yes, one was Harry's – the Potters – the other was a Pure-blood family called Longbottom," replied Molly.

Lestrade made a funny noise at the second name but no one commented on it right away.

"Did they know Voldemort was after them?" asked Sherlock, raising an eyebrow when Molly flinched.

"Yes," said Molly. "They went into hiding shortly after the babies were born."

"How do you know this?" asked Mycroft, even he didn't know this.

"How did they go into hiding?" asked Sherlock and John.

Harry's eyes were wide, taking everything that Molly was saying in. He had to go into hiding when he was a baby!

Molly looked at Mycroft and said, "There is a reason why I work in the Muggle World as opposed to the Wizarding World."

Mycroft continued to look at her, awaiting her answer, but Molly wasn't continuing so they sat in silence for a while before Sherlock interrupted and said, "Yes, yes. We'll obviously get back to that statement later. _How_ did they go into hiding?"

"Only a few people know. It was supposed to be a secret," said Molly.

"Not that big of a secret. Voldemort obviously killed Harry's parents did he not?" said Sherlock.

"Sherlock," said John while Harry stared at all of them, unsure if they were telling the truth. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, after all, said they died in a car crash.

Sherlock looked at John, raising his eyebrows.

"Sensitivities," said John with a nod at Harry who was looking at them all with wide eyes.

Harry chose that moment to speak and said, "But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon said they died in a car crash. They lied about how they died?" He said that as if he couldn't believe that his aunt and uncle would lie about that.

Molly decided to speak up and said, answering both Sherlock's question and Harry's, "Yes You-Know-Who did Sherlock and no, Harry, your parents didn't die in a car crash. They didn't even own a car."

Mycroft decided to add to the conversation now and said, as if thinking to himself, "So if only a few knew where they were, someone had to betray them."

Even though it wasn't a question, Molly still nodded and said, "Yes."

Mycroft leaned back in his chair, umbrella across his legs, with his fingers steepled under his chin – just like his brother usually does – thinking.

Everyone looked at Mycroft, wondering what he was thinking about before Harry said, "What about me? Why didn't Voldemort try to kill me? Why didn't I die?"

Everyone looked towards Harry at that and Molly and Lestrade exchanged another look, after flinching again, and Lestrade said, "That's the thing, Harry, You-Know-Who did."

"What?" said Sherlock, John and Harry, sitting up straighter on the couch.

"From what is known of You-Know-Who, there is every indication that he did," said Lestrade.

"Then how is Harry still alive?" asked John, sounding incredulous.

"Because something about Harry stopped him," said Lestrade simply. "Something happened that night, that no one knows except Harry, – who is too young to remember – James and Lily Potter and You-Know-Who himself know as well and all three of them are known, or thought to be known, to be dead."

"The book Mycroft had you give me has speculations then?" said Sherlock, holding up the book now like it was diseased with two fingers.

"Among other things, yes," said Lestrade.

"Keep the book," said Mycroft absentmindedly, knowing his brother well enough to know he was about to throw it in the bin. "There are other things you need to read."

Sherlock sniffed indignantly at being bossed around by his brother but he did set it back down on his lap.

"Thought to be dead?" asked Harry, with a slightly hopeful tone.

Lestrade sighed and said, "Your parents are dead, Harry. Their – well – bodies were recovered and given a proper Wizarding burial." Harry nodded understandingly if not slightly disappointed at getting his hopes up to begin with. "You-Know-Who's, on the other hand, is a completely different story. His body was never recovered – nor found."

"How?" asked John.

"That's another question that will go unanswered," responded Molly. "No one knows for sure and there is only gossip amongst disbelievers, those that doubt You-Know-Who is actually dead, and You-Know-Who's followers."

"So he could come back?" asked Harry, slightly afraid. He didn't want a murderer after him.

No one answered him, unable to.

Finally, Mycroft cleared his throat and said, "And that, Mister Potter, is why you are more than 'just Harry.' You are 'The-Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry stared at Mycroft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: See? No cliffhanger this time? Right? You don't consider this a cliffhanger, do you? *stares* The next chapter will be up next Wednesday! See you then!


	16. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Background: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Betas: Lady of the Shards and Kyrianae Narii for advising me on pretty much everything U.K., on FF.net.

Chapter 14

221B Baker Street - General

Finally, Mycroft cleared his throat and said, "And that, Mister Potter, is why you are more than 'just Harry.' You are 'The-Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry stared at Mycroft. He reached up unconsciously and touched his scar while thinking, _'The-Boy-Who-Lived? What kind of title was that?'_

Sherlock, having noticed Harry's movement, asked, "Is that when Harry got the scar on his forehead? When Voldemort tried to kill him? What kind of curse can cause a scar like lightening?"

"How can I be a boy who lived?" asked Harry at the same time.

Lestrade and Molly exchanged a look, clearly deciding how much they should tell.

"Yes when You-Know-Who tried to kill Harry, he gave him the scar," said Molly, slowly.

John and Harry nodded slightly while Sherlock and Mycroft continued to watch Molly and Lestrade, waiting for either one of them to continue.

But before Molly or Lestrade could continue, they all turned towards the door as they heard the front door slam. Mrs. Hudson must be back.

"You should continue this conversation later," said Mycroft, suggesting a plan for them.

"Don't tell me what to do Mycroft," said Sherlock, sounding disgusted, but nevertheless agreeing reluctantly. Mycroft had a way of getting his way.

Mycroft sighed and said, "Do you have to take everything I say to you as an order?"

"Yes because you always make it one," said Sherlock, staring at his brother, daring him to argue.

John and Lestrade exchanged a look, rolling their eyes at each other, used to this, while Molly and Harry looked uncomfortable, unused to the exchange between the brothers, though Harry also wanted an answer to his question.

Before Mycroft could say anything in response to his last comment, Sherlock continued and said, "Do you have anything else of importance to say before you go?"

Mycroft stared at his brother for a moment before he said, "As a matter of fact I do."

Mycroft reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out two envelopes. He stood up, walked over to Sherlock, John and Harry sitting on the couch and handed one envelope to John.

"What's this?" asked John taking the envelope, slightly hesitantly, not knowing what surprises Mycroft would have for him.

Mycroft looked at John, raising his eyebrow slightly as if he thought John should have known, before he said, "It's the information to your new bank account. I've had your funds transferred this morning."

John was silent for a moment as Lestrade gave John a pointed look, clearly stating how creepy the situation was, before John sighed and said, "Right. Thanks. Do you have the name of the bank in here too?"

Mycroft's lips twitched upward, slightly sardonically, as he said, "Yes I do remember having that included in there as well."

John looked at Mycroft and said, "You and Sherlock tend to forget important pieces of information sometimes."

Sherlock looked disgusted and said, "Don't put me in the same class as Mycroft."

"You'll have to acknowledge that you're brothers one day," replied John.

"We do once a year on Christmas for Mummy's sake," replied Mycroft, also looking insulted.

John sighed. He should have known he would never win an argument, especially against both of them at the same time.

"What's in the second envelope?" asked John.

Mycroft handed the second envelope to Sherlock, who looked at it for a moment, before Mycroft sighed and said, "Just take it, Sherlock. It's yours and Doctor Watson's temporary guardianship of Mister Potter."

Harry sat up even straighter on the sofa looking at the envelope that Sherlock took from his brother as if it were the most important object in the whole room.

"Why temporary and not permanent?" asked Sherlock to Mycroft, opening the envelope and looking at the papers.

"There are some complications that I have to work around yet," said Mycroft sounding absentmindedly.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, not completely believing Mycroft.

"And how long will it take for these _complications_ to work out?" asked Sherlock.

"As long as it takes," was Mycroft's reply.

Harry interrupted Sherlock and Mycroft's conversation and said, "I don't have to go back to Uncle Vernon and Dudley?"

"No," said Sherlock at once.

"For now," said Mycroft at the same time.

"No," said Sherlock, again. "I promise."

Mycroft stared at Sherlock, giving him an unreadable look. Sherlock looked at Mycroft, daring him to argue with him.

Mycroft, taking a note from his brother's book, didn't say anything, just turned around and moved back to his chair.

"How did you manage to do that so fast?" asked Molly, looking at Mycroft. "Doesn't it take a while for things like that to go through? Even temporary ones?"

From his seated position, Mycroft looked at Molly and said, "Of course it takes a while."

"But then-" started Molly.

"I would leave it there, Molly," said Lestrade, giving Mycroft a weary look.

Molly looked at Lestrade before she looked at everyone else in the room and taking note of their expressions ranging from unimpressed to exasperated to awed. She quietly decided to let the subject drop while she still apparently could.

Mycroft dusted invisible lint off of his trousers before he said, "I've got more news."

There was silence for a few minutes before Lestrade asked, "Are you going to share with the rest of us?"

Mycroft shot him a look and said, "Vernon Dursley," Harry tensed at his uncle's name, "survived his bullet wound. He is currently in critical but stable condition at Saint Bartholomew's."

"How unfortunate," said Sherlock.

"Sherlock!" said John and Lestrade at once while Harry looked stricken and Molly looked slightly disapproving.

"What?" asked Sherlock, unsure what they were attempting to scold him for – he had been making comments like this about Vernon Dursley since he met him.

John and Lestrade both looked pointedly at Harry and Sherlock followed their gaze to look at Harry, before he leaned back in his seat and went over the paperwork about his and John's guardianship on Harry so as to give himself something to do besides participation in the current conversation.

Harry looked at Mycroft and said, "Did he say anything about me?"

Mycroft stared at Harry, debating on what to tell him, before he said, truthfully, "I haven't had the _pleasure_ of meeting Vernon Dursley myself, Mister Potter, nor to have a conversation with him so I cannot say."

"Oh," said Harry looking at his legs, picking at a hole that was on his pocket.

"Mister Potter, do you wish to have anything from Number Four Privet Drive brought to you?" asked Mycroft, changing the subject and knowing that Mister Potter wouldn't be going back there for the time being, if ever – if his brother got his way.

Harry looked up from his trousers surprised and said, "How'd you know that's where I lived?"

Mycroft looked at him and said, "It wasn't that hard."

Lestrade and John shared another look - Lestrade muttering under his breath with "creepy" being the only word that was audible - while Molly looked disturbed, wondering if he knew where she lived now.

"Creepy," muttered Harry, unintentionally copying Lestrade and only loud enough for Sherlock and John to hear causing their lips to turn upwards slightly, though Mycroft saw his lips move causing him to frown. Lestrade and Molly exchanged a look, unsure what Harry had said.

"Mister Potter?" asked Mycroft.

"Huh?" asked Harry.

Mycroft's eye twitched at the sound coming from the youth, though he ignored it for the moment, and said, "Do you have anything you need or want from Privet Drive?"

"I have my – er – blanket that I had since I was a baby that I would like," said Harry blushing a bit as he said it.

Mycroft - along with everyone else in the room - said nothing about the item in question, just nodded his head and said, "Where is it?"

"My room," said Harry, not wanting to say where his room was.

"Where is your room?" asked Mycroft.

Harry said nothing, but then he didn't have to as Sherlock said, "It's the cupboard under the stairs."

There was silence after that pronouncement – though Harry's silence was horrified. He didn't know he let that slip.

"Right," said Mycroft after a while, he would let Sherlock and everyone else deal with that revelation. "Sherlock," continued Mycroft.

Sherlock sighed to show he was listening.

Mycroft sighed at his brother's behavior and said, "Make sure you enroll Mister Potter in school. It's the second week of August and school starts September first."

Sherlock could have said a lot of things to that but instead, he said, "I found your list of recommendations in the envelope."

"Do not forget," said Mycroft with a pointed look at John.

John nodded.

Mycroft stood, picked up his umbrella and said, "Enjoy the rest of your day." He gave his brother a pointed look causing Sherlock to stand, giving the envelope and its contents to John.

"Let me walk you out," said Sherlock causing everyone except for Mycroft to look at them incredulously.

Mycroft said nothing but started to head out of the flat with Sherlock following him.

They walked in silence until they reached the door and then they both stopped, facing the door.

"Why can't you say the word 'wizard' or anything to do with magic?" asked Sherlock, not looking at Mycroft.

"One of _their_ officials put something like a whammy," Mycroft turned his nose up at the language he was forced to use before he continued, "on me and my immediate assistant so we can't tell anyone."

"Why?" asked Sherlock.

"Because I am constant as is she. The Prime Minister changes so _they_ don't worry about them much," explained Mycroft.

"But she and you are always there and can tell people if you could and being one of the most powerful people in all of Britain, you would be believed," said Sherlock, finishing Mycroft thoughts.

"Exactly," said Mycroft.

"Is there any way around it?" asked Sherlock.

"Not that I am aware and I've been looking for years," said Mycroft with a slight bitterness in his voice. He disliked any kind of restrictions.

"How were you able to write the title of the book down then?" asked Sherlock, raising his eyebrow.

"I am unable to speak of them but I can write it down - as long as it isn't with my computer or a quill and parchment," said Mycroft, sounding as if he was quoting something.

"Quill and parchment?" asked Sherlock, sounding incredulous.

"They do need to get out of the dark ages with some things."

Sherlock was silent for a moment.

"Who?"

Mycroft was silent.

"Ah so they made it so you couldn't say their name either and hence are trying to be thorough," said Sherlock. "Can you give any hints?"

"They make a toad look pleasing," said Mycroft, enjoying insulting the person who caused his displeasure.

Sherlock raised his eyebrow further.

Mycroft then turned to Sherlock and asked, changing the subject abruptly, "Are you sure this is a good idea? Especially with what we have planned?"

"I know what I'm doing Mycroft," answered back Sherlock turning to look at him as well.

"Are you sure? First, you involve Doctor Watson and now you are involving a five-year-old boy and probably the Detective Inspector and Doctor Hooper as well. You know why I first asked you for your help on this," said Mycroft.

Sherlock was silent for a moment before he said, "I need help getting the bottom flat cleaned out for the extra space."

Mycroft sighed. His brother could infuriate him sometimes but he knew Mycroft would do anything to help him. "I'll see that it's done in the coming days."

Mycroft straightened his suit jacket while looking his brother up and down and said, "I hope you know what you're doing. This is a dangerous game you're playing." Mycroft then left the flat with a parting statement of, "Give Mummy my best."

Sherlock watched him leave without saying a word to either of his parting statements.

* * *

Future excerpt from John's Blog

Time – Unknown

_I could barely believe it when Sherlock and Mycroft left the flat without Sherlock saying something at his brother and I wasn't the only one. I was half expecting to hear Mrs. Hudson's scream about finding a dead body on the floor near the door. Luckily that didn't happen. To this day, I have no idea what the whole conversation was about though it was the first time the toad was mentioned…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So how about that whole series three of Sherlock, huh? And that finale? Not to mention the final ten minutes of the episode? Anyone have a similar reaction to me? Something along the lines of: asdfasdofija! I can't believe they went there! akdfjaosidfj! Anyone? Honestly, I'm not sure I'm over it yet even now close to three days later... asdfkaosdifjasdifjanf! And if you are going to comment in a review about series three, keep it spoiler free please. Thanks! See you next Wednesday!


	17. Interlude 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Background: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Betas: Lady of the Shards and Kyrianae Narii for advising me on pretty much everything U.K., on ff.net

Interlude 2

Unknown location – Moriarty

All the plans were set, a few tiny details needed to be worked out yet but the big plans were ready to be implemented. Now to set them in motion... This was going to be fun!

"Sir," said his sniper coming into the room.

"Yes?" he said, not bothering to look up from his masterpiece.

"I just wanted to confirm before placing the actual order with our seller – you wanted Semtex?" asked the sniper.

"Yes – though I want enough now to make six vests – not five," he replied, still not looking up from his plans. He knew now that Mycroft Holmes got Sherlock and Doctor Watson temporary guardianship of Harry Potter, that Harry would be staying with Sherlock for a while - long enough to have a vital part in his plans.

"Yes, sir," said the sniper, making a mental note of how much more he would have to add and how much it would now cost.

Moriarty dismissed his sniper and went back to his plans. This _game_ was going to be something Sherlock would never forget.

Suddenly a text arrived on his phone causing him to put down his masterpiece and pick up his phone. He read the message which caused him to grin. He was going to have to make a personal visit to one of the patients at Saint Bartholomew's…

* * *

Mycroft's car – General

"We will be getting a call from _them_ at some point today as there was a performance by one in my brother's flat earlier," said Mycroft to Anthea. "Tell _them_ I've taken care of it and there is no need for _their_ intervention."

"Already taken care of sir," said Anthea.

Mycroft nodded in acknowledgment. He did appreciate it when his staff was prepared and, one might argue, one step ahead of him.

They rode in silence in the backseat, with Anthea on her phone - a folder he asked her to bring last minute on the seat between them - finishing up the final plans that had to be completed before they were out of range as they were on their way, finally, to get some answers.

A couple of minutes later, Anthea put her mobile down, it having stopped working the closer they got to their destination. She looked over at Mycroft and nodded once. Everything was set and the clock was ticking.

Mycroft spoke again and said, "I need you to make time in the schedule for a stop by Saint Bartholomew's later this week so I can have a _talk_ with Vernon Dursley."

"Yes, sir," said Anthea, making a mental note.

"Also we need to send someone to Privet Drive before he returns there to pick up an item of Mister Potter's," continued Mycroft.

"Yes, sir," said Anthea, again, making another note though unneeded if everything went according to the plan; however, she knew how he liked to be thorough.

The car stopped, the driver knowing he would be unable to travel much further, at the side of the road where a man was waiting for them.

"You needn't come any farther, Anthea," said Mycroft.

"I know, sir," said Anthea, preparing to get out of the car and picking up the folder.

Mycroft looked at her for a moment, silently grateful for her before he nodded and said, "Let's go."

The driver opened the door and the man that was waiting along the side of the road stepped towards them as they exited the car.

"Mycroft Holmes?" asked the man.

"Indeed," said Mycroft, giving his umbrella an idle swing.

"This way," said the man, gesturing towards a path that led to a boat at the shore of the North Sea.

"Wait here, Fredrick," said Mycroft to his driver.

"Yes, sir," said Fredrick.

Mycroft, Anthea and the man then started to walk in silence down the path until they reached the boat. Then the man said, "I'll need to search you for weapons before we reach the prison."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows and said, "We are simply regular people. What weapons can we have that will be useful for someone located here?"

The man raised his eyebrows in reply and said, "You are Mycroft Holmes, one of the most known dangerous Muggles around, asking to visit Azkaban to see Sirius Black. It's standard procedure when it comes to you and your people."

Mycroft simply smiled, which seemed very dangerous to the other man, and allowed himself and Anthea to be searched for weapons.

After ascertaining there were none on either of them, the man, Mycroft and Anthea got in the boat and set off towards the island.

* * *

Unknown location – Unknown

He had killed three people so far. Only three and none of them were his intended. He needed to kill four more people and he would be done. _Done_.

He grinned. He didn't want the coppers to figure out who his original target was and why.

He grinned wider. _He_ would learn. _He_ wouldn't be able to hide things like that from him forever and get away with it. Not ever again…

* * *

221B Baker Street – Sherlock

Sherlock walked back upstairs, carefully placing parts of what his brother just said in his mind palace while deleting other parts of the conversation completely. He heard a buzzing so Molly's charm or ward or _spell_ – he would get the proper terminology from her later – was still working. He wondered how long it was going to last. Did she have to remove it herself?

He walked into the flat and saw that John was still seated on the couch, his envelope now opened as he went through all the paperwork that Mycroft had given him and the envelope with the information about Harry that Sherlock had passed to him was neatly tucked back in the envelope and on the coffee table.

Harry had walked cautiously - judging by his face, posture, the way he was playing with the hem of his shirt and the final step he had taken - towards Molly, who was still seated in John's chair, and had just asked, "Can you tell me anything about my parents?"

Sherlock grimaced slightly to himself as he felt another twinge in his stomach at the mention of Harry's parents that, again, had nothing to do with the twinges he had been feeling at the bank. He should probably ask John about this. He may be coming down with something. He was sure of it at this point - it could be nothing else. He refused to think about what he was actually feeling. Jealousy was too _common_ for him.

He shook off the feeling and looked at Lestrade, who for some reason looked like he was getting ready to leave and that just would not do. If Lestrade thought he was going to _leave_ after what he had just said and before the case was discussed, Sherlock was going to get John to give him an examination to check his mental facilities.

They were going to have to put aside discussions of magic though for the next couple of hours so Sherlock could look at the case in more detail than previous. It was a shame that he didn't actually get to go to the crime scene. He was going to be missing out on some vital information but he would make do – as long as the notes from the detectives were good but he wasn't hoping for much.

Sherlock turned so he was looking directly at Lestrade and opened his mouth to say something but before he could, his mobile started to ring. Everyone looked at him.

 _'Of course. Mycroft's parting statement of giving Mummy his best. It was a hint that Mummy would be calling and soon,'_ thought Sherlock.

"Don't go anywhere, Lestrade. We have a case to discuss next and don't be boring like last time. Another bank robbery turned hostage situation would be tedious, especially so soon," said Sherlock looking at Lestrade intently and speaking quickly. He then answered his ringing mobile, without giving Lestrade a chance to answer, and said, "Hello, Mummy."

* * *

Hogwarts – Dumbledore

Dumbledore walked through the halls of Hogwarts, happy to be back after a week long spent in stuffy rooms dealing with official business with the Wizengamot. Sometimes it was tough being the Chief Warlock, especially when none knew how to enjoy a good joke. Really the one about the treacle tart was funny.

He went to catch up with all the returning professors to see first, individually, if there would be any changes to their syllabus before the staff meeting later in the month and to welcome the new Defense Against the Dark Art professor, whose name was escaping him at the moment. Poor lad. Dumbledore hoped he lasted longer than a year, if only Tom didn't do what he did…

Finally, after completing that business, he headed towards his office, looking forward to the relative peace and quiet of it.

He gave the gargoyle guarding his office the password and stepped into his office for the first time in over a week and immediately sat down behind his desk, closing his eyes and relishing the silence.

His eyes popped back open a second later. There was something wrong in his office. It was too quiet.

He looked around for intruders. There were none. His eyes continued to roam across the room before his eyes fell on the devices that were monitoring Privet Drive on a table. Devices that were broken and now on the floor. Devices that were broken and Dumbledore didn't know for how long which meant only one thing; one terrible thing.

The wards around Privet Drive had fallen and Harry Potter was in danger, if he wasn't dead already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: *waves* So this is my last chapter that I have completely written and beta'd... Though never fear! I'm already working on the next chapter and it's already halfway done, although I won't start posting again until I have, roughly, the next eight chapters written - that way you guys have roughly two months of updates! I promise I won't delay in writing them (they are already mapped out - they just need written). As a matter of fact, I should hopefully be done with the chapters by either the end of February or sometime in March. You can check my profile (on ff.net under the same penname) for the status of the chapters as I keep that updated frequently.


	18. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Background: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Beta: Lady of the Shards
> 
> Thanks for all the reviews and kudos!

Chapter 15

In a boat on the way to Azkaban – General

The closer they got to the island that housed the prison, the paler both Anthea and Mycroft were becoming along with their escort and the rougher the ride.

Mycroft got a terrible feeling in his stomach causing him to turned his head slightly to look at Anthea and saw Anthea tighten her lips, close her eyes and shake her head slightly. The guards must be starting to affect her as well.

' _Mycroft make – No don't go!'_

Mycroft closed his eyes briefly, trying to block the sound of his brother's voice. The guards were starting to affect him too, though luckily it was just sound and not picture as well. Yet. He gripped his umbrella tightly.

' _I hate you! Leave me alone!'_

Mycroft shook his head as if to rid himself of the past memory. Didn't his escort have something to get rid of the guards for people approaching the island?

' _Sherlock!'_

Mycroft's closed his eyes again tightly, trying to erase the image that accompanied his own voice now. The day which he finally convinced Sherlock for good to kick his habit would be forever etched in Mycroft's mind.

Suddenly their escort pointed and said, " _Expecto Patronum_."

Mycroft opened his eyes in time to see something silvery shoot out and start to push something back – the guards Mycroft suspected – and the voices in his head and the terrible feeling disappeared, and not a moment too soon, though he started to feel shaky. He disliked this feeling, this feeling of _weakness._

"Sorry about that," said their escort. "The Dementors aren't supposed to be out this far. We'll have a clear path from here on out."

Mycroft nodded his head, unable to speak for the moment. He gripped his umbrella even tighter. He hadn't thought about those past three horrid days in ages.

"Sir," said Anthea passing him a piece of chocolate with a hand shaking slightly, though she was hiding it well.

"Have one yourself," said Mycroft accepting the piece and eating it.

Anthea nodded taking a piece and offering one to their escort as well who accepted it gratefully.

A few minutes later, their escort spoke again and said, "We should be there in a moment."

"Excellent," said Mycroft, his color still not back but no longer was he hearing the voices of his brother and himself in his head.

A few minutes after that they bumped onto the edge of the island that housed the prison. There was a small path for them to walk before they reached an entrance into the actual prison.

Before they made a move to get out of the boat, Mycroft turned towards their escort and said, "Mister Black is waiting for us in a room, correct?"

"Yes, sir," said the man. "He should have been moved by now and will be situated in the room you are to use by the time you get there."

Mycroft nodded and said, "After you."

The man nodded – using his wand to anchor the boat to the shore – before he stood and started to lead the way with Mycroft and Anthea following him.

They walked in silence with their heads bent against the strong wind off the sea before they got refuge in the prison itself.

"Here," said the man once they were inside and he put an _ensorcellment_ on a tense – with good reason – Mycroft and Anthea, but they were only warmed and dried off.

Mycroft and Anthea nodded their thanks and waited as the man did the same to himself.

Once the man was finished he said, "Right. There should be another guard up ahead to meet us to lead you to the room and Mister Black."

Mycroft nodded and followed the man as he started to walk down the hall. It was straight forward so far – no maze-like hallways like he was used to when he had to talk to a prisoner in one of the special prisons.

"Is that you, Dawlish?" asked a female voice up ahead.

"Yes, Bones. Along with –" started Dawlish.

"I know who you are escorting," said Bones, turning the corner. "Well, let's go. Mister Black is in the room waiting for you Mister Holmes." She started to lead them.

"Thank you, Madam Bones," said Mycroft. "Will the two of you be standing outside the room while we are in there?"

"Yes," said Bones.

"But you will not be listening in, correct?" asked Mycroft.

"No. You have our word," said Bones as if the idea of listening in was ludicrous.

"How reassuring," said Mycroft, tapping his umbrella on the ground.

Bones and Dawlish didn't say anything to the sentence, sensing it was sarcastic.

"Here we are," said Bones after they walked for a few minutes, stopping outside a plain, stone door. "You will need to leave your umbrella out here." She directed the last statement to Mycroft.

"It's just an umbrella," said Mycroft looking at her. "I use it to lean on and to obviously prevent the rain from hitting me, nothing more."

"It can be used as a weapon," said Bones.

"But does one of your _fine_ stature know how to use an umbrella as a weapon?" asked Mycroft. "Would Mister Black?"

"I suspect not guessing by his family but –" started Bones.

"Then I see no reason why I would have to surrender my umbrella to you," said Mycroft with finality in his voice, daring Bones to argue.

Bones frowned and exchanged a look with Dawlish, who shrugged. It was Mycroft Holmes after all.

"On your own head then," said Bones.

"So it would seem," said Mycroft.

Bones continued on as if he didn't say that and said, "The door will stay locked behind you. Knock when you are finished and you want to be let out."

"Of course," said Mycroft. "Shall we get started then."

Bones opened her mouth like she was going to say more but closed it and nodded her head, knowing that Mister Holmes was ready to get started.

"Good luck," said Bones, opening the door.

"Luck is for simpletons," said Mycroft stepping into the room followed by Anthea.

"Of course it is," said Bones as she shut the door and locked it.

Mycroft looked around the room, taking in the sight of Mister Black seated at a table – disheveled in appearance, dirty with an odor of a man desperately in need of a long bath and with a look in his eyes of having seen horrors every day for the past few years of his life – with a confused look as to why he was there in the room though he turned towards the door as soon as it opened.

Mycroft stepped further into the room, Mister Black's haunted eyes following him the entire way. Mycroft stopped on the opposite side of the table.

"First things first, Mister Black. How much do you care about your godson?" asked Mycroft looking Black directly in the eye.

"What?" asked Black hoarsely, looking at the man in front of him incredulously.

"It is a simple question, Mister Black, and as we are on a time constraint, I need your answer," said Mycroft staring intently at Black.

Black stared at him for a moment more before he said, in a strong still hoarse voice, "I love him as if he were my own."

Mycroft stared at Black for a second longer, assessing him and determining that whether or not he was guilty of murdering the thirteen people he was accused of – which would be determined by Mycroft before he left – he wasn't guilty of betraying Mister Potter's parents, that was plain as day in that simple sentence; his voice – intonation full of love but yet sadness, his posture –defeated, his eyes – hopeful yet defeated at the same time, letting the haunted look disappear for just a moment before reappearing.

Mycroft, with no change to his tone of voice or face, then said, "Excellent. I need you to quickly look through these pictures, without asking questions if you please," Mycroft added when Black opened his mouth to do just that, "and see if you can recognize anyone. It's for your godson's safety."

Black pursued his lips and nodded tightly. If prison had done anything for him, it was giving him a touch of patience, just barely.

Anthea, who Black had just noticed standing in the room with them, brought over the folder with the pictures at the nod and Black started to go through them quickly but carefully.

There was silence for a few minutes with the exception of Black's turning of the page.

"This one," said Black holding up a picture. "This is Arabella Figg. I knew her when I was working for the Order."

"Anyone else?" asked Mycroft watching him carefully as Anthea took the picture and made a note.

"These two are Lily's relatives. Dursley or something. I can't remember their first names," said Black holding up the next pictures.

Anthea took those pictures as well, making notes while Mycroft continued to watch Black go through the rest of the pictures.

When he got to the last picture, Black looked up at the two of them and said, "I don't recognize anyone else. What's this for anyway?"

Mycroft ignored the question as he turned to Anthea who was collecting the picture and folder from Black and said, "Operation Indigo is go."

Anthea nodded, walked over to the door, knocked on it and then walked out of it when it was opened, talking quickly and quietly to the one who opened the door as it shut behind her and relocked.

Mycroft, who had watched Anthea leave the room, then turned in the direction of Black and moved to sit in front of him.

Before Black could say anything, however, Mycroft said, "Let's talk about the night of the Potters' deaths. I'm sure you have an _interesting_ story to tell."

Black was silent for a moment. He looked as if he were debating telling Mycroft anything but Harry's safety weighed heavily on his mind. Coming to a decision, he told his story, hesitating only slightly.

Mycroft sat and listened to Black speak with a blank look on his face, giving away nothing of his thoughts. When Black was finished, Mycroft was silent as he assessed Black before he finally spoke, asking one simple thing, "Tell me something, Mister Black," Mycroft looked at Black directly in his eyes, "What would you _do_ for your godson?"

* * *

Azkaban outside the room; same time – Anthea

"I need to get back to the vehicle that I came in immediately," said Anthea, looking at the man who escorted her and her boss.

"Er-" the man, Dawlish, looked at his boss.

"What for?" asked Bones.

"I'm afraid that's classified right now, ma'am," said Anthea, smiling slightly.

"Classified?" asked Bones, sounding indignant.

Anthea nodded in confirmation before looking back at Dawlish, "Time is of the essence."

Bones and Dawlish exchanged a look before Bones nodded once in Dawlish's direction and Dawlish led Anthea back out to the boat.

* * *

Hogwarts – Dumbledore

Dumbledore paced his office, as he had been doing for the past day, while he waited for the professor he sent a house-elf for. There was no choice. The letter he had received from Arabella Figg was of no help as well. She didn't know anything and Dumbledore, himself, had tried every spell he knew to try to find out if Harry Potter was well and where he was located. He had failed in his attempt, much to his disappointment.

Dumbledore was going to have to investigate Privet Drive – because where else would the disturbance be – himself.

Dumbledore looked at his watch while he let out a sigh. The professor he was waiting for was late on purpose. He continued to pace.

Finally, there was a knock on his office door.

Dumbledore sat down behind his desk while he told the professor to enter. The only question left – besides what happened to Harry Potter and the warding around Privet Drive – was would the professor, who just swooped into his office, agree to come with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: About time right? Real life - can be a real witch and in my life when it rain, it doesn't just downpour, it's a freaking hurricane and blizzard all rolled into one. So for now this is the only chapter that is finished. I've made you guys wait long enough I think for a chapter so I decided to post this now even though I wanted to wait for the others to be finished first. I do have the rest of this story plotted out - I've decided to make this into a series of three stories - and this story has roughly fifteen or so more chapters (the number may change when I actually write it out) and depending how long it takes me to write them, I may not post again until this story is finished so it could be a while. Just a heads up and keep an eye on my profile at fanfiction.net under the same name, I really do update that when I'm writing.


	19. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Background: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter. Also I started writing/plotting this story before season 3 so I will incorporate some aspects of season 3 and beyond but other aspects will not be included.
> 
> Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, kudos and bookmarks! 
> 
> Additional Note: I don't have enough apologies for the long wait so I won't even try...at least it wasn't three years like some of my other stories...though two is probably no better...I'm seriously working on getting all my stories done so, I beg all my readers, please have just a tiny bit more patience with me. :-) All my stories will be completed...eventually.

Chapter 16

"Hello, Mummy," said Sherlock into his phone as he walked out of the room again so he wasn't overheard.

"Do not, 'Hello, Mummy,' me, young man. Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" asked the voice on the other end of the phone in a calm voice.

"I –" started Sherlock but he was cut off.

"No, you do not! Not even a telephone call from my own sons to let me know that the son that was held hostage was all right. I have to find out about everything being over on the telly! And we all know how accurate the telly is some days, don't we?" said Mummy, still in a calm voice but starting to pick up speed and pitch.

"Yes, Mummy," said Sherlock, not bothering to explain his actions to his mother, knowing it wouldn't help his plight with her. She was worried.

"Then in the next breath on the telly, they said there had been casualties! _Casualties_ , Sherlock, and do you know what was my next thought?" asked Mummy, voice starting to raise slightly.

Sherlock was silent.

"That's right, Sherlock. It was of you and if you had made it out of the bank because, surely if you had, you would have called your mother and let her know you were fine, especially as we all know the statistics on hostage situations!" said Mummy with a slight break in her voice.

Sherlock, fearing that his mother was about to start crying on him and having enough tears the past two days in his presence to last him a lifetime, hurried to reassure his mother and said, "I'm _fine_ , Mummy. I didn't even get a scratch."

"I should hope so! What with your detective work being dangerous, the last thing you need is for a _bank_ to be a dangerous place," said Mummy and then she started to talk about the safety of bank consumers, security and other things. Sherlock had stopped listening after he said his reassurance but knew enough about his mother to know that hanging up on her was never a good idea.

"Now," said Mummy when she was done lecturing as mothers tend to do apparently, "Mycroft said you had news to tell me. What is it? And do not use that kind of language about your brother! It's unseemly."

"I didn't say anything," said Sherlock though he definitely wanted to. How dare Mycroft put him in this position?

"You were thinking it William Sherlock Scott Holmes," said Mummy sternly.

Sherlock sighed and said, "I hate it when you call me that."

"It's your name, dear. Now, enough dawdling and tell me what's got your brother all in such a bundle of nerves," said Mummy.

"Mycroft? A bundle of nerves?" asked Sherlock sounding skeptical.

"Dawdling Sherlock…Unless you don't want to tell me? Or was your brother covering for you again? Are you hurt? Did you get hurt in that blasted bank robbery turned hostage situation?" asked Mummy and there was a quiver in her voice.

Sherlock was going to kill Mycroft…happily. Better yet, he was going to return the favor to him two-fold and sit back and watch him sweat.

"No, Mycroft is not covering for me. I didn't get injured in the bank robbery gone wrong. I was just hoping to tell you my news in person so you could better appreciate it as opposed to hearing it on the phone."

Sherlock was glad he walked out of the room, knowing at least one person would have had a hard time controlling their undignified, disbelieving snort of laughter.

Mummy was silent for a moment before she said, "Are you trying to get out of telling me?"

"Of course not, Mummy," Sherlock said at once.

"Then I would like to hear your news, regardless of how you think I will take it, right now over the phone," said Mummy in her no-nonsense voice.

Sherlock let out an uncharacteristic sigh and said, "I may have...possibly adopted a child along with my roommate, John."

There was silence.

"Mummy?" asked Sherlock when he felt the silence was going on far too long.

Still, the silence continued for a moment longer before Mummy said, "Let me make sure I heard you correctly. You adopted a child along with your roommate, the same roommate you are not romantically involved with? What is going to happen to the child when one of you moves away from the other?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment before he said, "Yes, you heard correctly." He didn't continue.

Mummy was silent for a moment, as if waiting for Sherlock to continue, before she said, "And what about the other part of the question, Sherlock? What happens to the child when, eventually, one of you moves away from the other? You said Doctor John Watson was not gay and you were not involved with him so…"

Sherlock cut his mother off and said, "It's technically just a temporary guardianship for now in both our names. I suspect there is a problem that Mycroft couldn't circumvent."

Mummy sighed and said, "Sherlock, Mycroft cannot just do everything you ask him. There are limits you know."

"I know all too well, Mummy," said Sherlock some bitterness coming into his voice.

There was silence again at the comment.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean –" apologized Sherlock, cutting himself off at the end.

"I know," accepted Mummy, softly. She let out a sigh and said, "This is what you want? The both of you? You've thought it through?"

"Yes," said Sherlock – because he spent the whole night in the vault thinking it through and then some more last night.

"I'm going to be a grandma then," said Mummy and there was a hint of a smile in her voice that Sherlock could detect.

"Yes," said Sherlock again.

"How old is the child? Are they a boy or a girl? Give me some more details, Sherlock. Oh, if this child is to be a part of our family, along with Doctor Watson, then all of you must come out here so I can meet them, Sherlock," said Mummy, her excitement getting the better of her.

Sherlock smiled to himself as he started to fill his mother in on Harry – the parts that he apparently could anyway – and arranged a time for John, Harry and himself to go out to his childhood home to meet her.

Sherlock hung up the phone approximately ten minutes later after promising to call her more.

Sherlock took a deep breath. The conversation went in a different direction than what he thought it was going to go but it wasn't a bad one. It gave him more information to think about.

His mother was worried about John leaving and him being alone with Harry. She had no idea what Mycroft and Sherlock had planned before either John or Harry were in the picture. Sherlock being alone with Harry was not one of the more likely outcomes.

No matter. All of his plans just needed a little more fine-tuning and he probably could not be as reckless. Hardly any drawbacks to having Harry with him.

Sherlock pocketed his phone and walked back into the room, observing the occupants without their knowledge.

Harry and Molly were where he left them before he went out into the hallway to talk to his mother – in his and John's chairs in front of the fireplace, the chairs having been moved by Lestrade and John when he left the room with Mycroft – talking presumably about Harry's parents. Sherlock was becoming efficient at ignoring the strange feelings happening in his stomach when dealing with Harry.

Sherlock moved his eyes to John who was watching them while he made tea in the kitchen, a habit he had when he felt the need to be doing something useful.

Lestrade, Sherlock noticed, was sitting on their sofa, going through the case report file, trying – in his limited capacity – to make sense of what he was seeing.

Sherlock, knowing that Harry shouldn't be hearing or seeing any details about murders – he knew that before Mummy told him – made sure he was engrossed with Molly before he caught John's eye and beckoned him over.

"Everything okay?" asked John handing over a cup of tea.

"Fine. Ready to solve another case," said Sherlock.

John frowned and said, "What about Harry? Should he be hearing about murders?"

Sherlock dismissed John's concerns and said, "Molly is keeping him entertained with stories about his parents."

John's frown deepened and said, "Are you jealous? It sounds like you're jealous of dead people, Sherlock."

Sherlock didn't bother to answer him – _he wasn't jealous_ – as he sat down in front of Lestrade while John, shaking his head, followed suit.

"Tell me about the case," said Sherlock staring at Lestrade, hating that he was repeating himself again, "and leave nothing out."

Lestrade started telling him about the case that he wasn't so eager to hear the day of the bank robbery gone wrong.

* * *

Saint Bartholomew's Hospital; same time

A man walked into Saint Bartholomew's Hospital and looked around before spotting the receptionist desk. He walked over to the desk.

"Excuse me, ma'am," said he said, slightly bashful.

"Yes," said the woman, smiling gently at him.

"Can you tell me where I can find Vernon Dursley?" asked the man, a worried tone in his voice.

"Are you a relative?" asked the woman, her gentle smile turning into a frown. Reporters have been trying to get in to see that poor man.

The man smiled and said, "Yep! I'm his cousin. He used to call me, Little Jimmy growing up because he was so much older than me."

The woman smiled, again, while thinking that age may not have been the entire factor in that nickname, and said, "I had to be sure. Reporters…" She trailed off.

The man, now identified as Jim, nodded earnestly and said, "I understand, ma'am."

The woman smiled once more in his direction before looking down at her computer and said, "He was just moved out of intensive care to a regular room." She gave the room number. "Do you need any help getting there?"

Jim shook his head and said, "Nope. I can make it on my own. Thank you so much for your help."

"You're welcome," said the woman.

As the young man walked away, the receptionist wondered why all people who needed help finding relatives' and friends' rooms couldn't be as polite as he was.

While Jim walked to the room he was directed to, he shook off the character he acted out to find the information with a grin.

Ordinary people were so adorable sometimes.

Moriarty whistled as he walked to the room he was directed. He just knew this was going to be a good day.

When he finally arrived, he stood outside the window and observed the man who was lying on the bed. He was shouting, red-faced, at the nurse.

Yes, this was going to be a perfect.

The nurse walked out of the room muttering under her breath without looking in Moriarty's direction and that was his cue.

"Mister Vernon Dursley?"

"What do you want? I already gave the blasted police my statement," said the man lying supine.

He was turning purple as well. How lovely.

Moriarty grinned widely and said, "I'm not with the police."

"Then what do you want?" asked the man angrily.

Moriarty grin grew even wider as he said, "I'm here to help you."

An hour later, Moriarty left Vernon Dursley's room – as he had an appointment that couldn't be rescheduled – so he called his associate.

"It's me," said Moriarty, "The plan is on. Pick-up in one hour."

"Understood, sir. We'll make it happen," replied his associate.

"You better or they'll never find your body," said Moriarty pleasantly.

His associate gulped audibly and said, "Yes, sir."

Moriarty hung up and walked to a first floor bathroom where he had placed a bag of clothes for him to change into. Once done, he walked out of the bathroom and to another floor in the hospital.

He gave the receptionist a smile and his alias, and she told him to have a seat – the head of the department would be right with him.

Moriarty waited for a few minutes before the head of the department came into the room and asked for Moriarty's alias.

Moriarty stood up, smiled, shook the man's hand and said, "Please call me, Jim."

"Jim it is. Follow me, please."

"Okay," said Jim as he followed the man into the room where the interview was to take place and took the seat he was directed into.

The man sat in his own seat, arranging his papers in order before he looked up and said, "Tell me, why do you want to work for our IT Department, Jim?"

Jim smiled.

* * *

Hogwarts – Dumbledore's Office; same time

"Ah, Severus," said Dumbledore as if Severus' arrival was unexpected.

"You called for me, Headmaster," said Severus Snape with a sneer. He was a busy man and he didn't have the time to deal with the Headmaster.

"Yes, but first would you care for a lemon drop?" asked Dumbledore, offering the candy.

"No," said Professor Snape.

"Alas, it seems as if I'm the only one who still likes them," Dumbledore said as he took one and popped it into his mouth.

There was silence for a moment as the headmaster enjoyed his candy before Professor Snape broke the silence.

"Your request, Headmaster?"

"Ah, yes." Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "What do you make of these?" He gestured to the devices that stopped working.

Professor Snape frowned at the headmaster before he took out his wand and cast a few diagnostic spells and a few spells that would cause the headmaster to frown if he knew for sure their origin.

When he looked up, the headmaster was indeed frowning but he was waiting for Severus' answer.

"The wards the devices were tied to appear to have broken about seventy-two to ninety-six hours ago," stated Professor Snape in a matter of fact voice.

"Yes," agreed Dumbledore somberly. "Can you ascertain if any of the people the wards were also linked to are injured or worse?"

Professor Snape frowned before he turned back to the devices and cast one more spell. He shook his head and said, "No, I cannot."

Dumbledore frowned deeper and said, "Neither can I. I suppose that leaves me and now you one last option. We need to go check on the individuals these wards and devices were tied to."

"I beg your pardon?" said Professor Snape.

Dumbledore looked at his young professor and said, "Those wards were tied to Harry Potter. If they are broken, it means something has happened to him and his family."

Professor Snape suddenly looked mutinous.

"Might I remind you of the Vow you made," said Dumbledore, before Severus could say anything. serenely.

Even if he still sounded pleasant, there was now a hard glint in Dumbledore's eye that Professor Snape recognized.

Professor Snape was silent, contemplating his choices for several moments, before he said, "When do you want to depart?"

Dumbledore eyed him for a few seconds before he said, "Two hours. I wish for Minerva to accompany us as well."

Professor Snape inclined his head and he swooped out of the office just as he entered it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: It's a Christmas miracle! I was going to update tomorrow, but I'm going to be super busy tomorrow...hopefully that was worth the long wait? The next chapter won't take as long to come out, promise (check out my profile page for progress on fanfiction.net - lazybum89). I'm anxious to finish this one as I want to start on the sequel...I've got lots of juicy things planned. :-)


	20. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Background: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments, kudos and subscriptions! <3

Chapter 17

Azkaban; same time

Mycroft sat and listened to Black speak with a blank look on his face, giving away nothing of his thoughts. When Black was finished, Mycroft was silent as he assessed Black before he finally spoke, asking one simple thing, "Tell me something, Mister Black," Mycroft looked Black directly in his eyes, "What would you _do_ for your godson?"

Black didn't even hesitate before he said, "Anything."

Mycroft eyed him for a moment before he said, "You really should think things through before you agree to do anything."

"It's Harry," croaked out Black. "I don't need to think."

"Not thinking is what got you here in the first place," said Mycroft, disapprovingly.

Black laughed darkly and it sent chills up Mycroft's spine – though he refused to let it show.

"My _last name_ got me sent here. It wouldn't have mattered if I did anything in the end," said Black ruefully shaking his head.

"Your actions did not help you either," said Mycroft shaking his own head. He consulted a notebook from his inner breast pocket. "It says here you were laughing as you were arrested. What can we make of that, do you suppose?"

Black's face crumpled as he said, voice extremely hoarse from the over talking he was doing after not talking in years, "Grief…I had just lost everything. James – Lily dead…Dumbledore had taken Harry away from me –"

Mycroft cut him off, "Headmaster Dumbledore?"

"Yes," said Black, eyes shining brightly but no tears falling.

"He had taken Harry Potter from your custody that night before you chased after Mister Peter Pettigrew?" asked Mycroft, his mind racing with possibilities. Black bypassed this information when he was speaking of this night previously and Mycroft obviously needed it.

"Before I decided to chase the rat that night," said Black thinking back again to that terrible night, "I arrived at the Potter's Cottage and Hagrid already had Harry. I asked for Hagrid to give Harry to me since I'm his godfather, you know…he should have been in my custody…Hagrid told me no – on Dumbledore's order. Didn't even tell me where Dumbledore was sending him…"

Black stopped speaking, overcome with memories from that night.

"I see," said Mycroft simply. Mycroft's mind whirled with possible scenarios as that information changed things.

Black visibly gathered himself, looked Mycroft in the eye and said, "I will admit, I am the type of person who will jump into a situation first without thinking through the consequences if I feel wronged or someone I care about was wronged," he blanched as if remembering something from a different time – Mycroft would need more information on that – "but that's not what happened that night. So when you ask me what I would do for my godson, the answer _is_ anything. I would do anything."

Black coughed after that speech, voice not used to speaking, as Mycroft watched him critically.

"We will have to work on that," said Mycroft simply.

"What?" asked Black, confused, and with good reason.

Mycroft didn't answer him as he reached down into the fold of his umbrella, took out a bottle and handed it over to Black.

"What's this?" asked Black, suspicion in his voice and movements, as he carefully took the bottle – which looked like a potion – but a Muggle couldn't have a potion, could he?

"According to my records, Mister Black, you were excellent in this class at school so you should have no problem identifying what that is and what type," said Mycroft.

 _'Apparently, a Muggle could have a potion'_ was the thought that was easily read across Black's face as he examined the bottle carefully.

"You have a twelve hour window to use it before my help disappears," continued Mycroft with no regard to Black's obvious thought.

"How –" started Black.

"No one will notice or be able to take the bottle from you, if you catch my meaning, for twelve hours I am told," said Mycroft, cutting him off. "You will have no problem getting it back to your cell though I do advise you caution and hide it before you leave this room. There is no need to flaunt that you have it."

Black tucked the bottle away neatly and stared calmly at Mycroft and said, "How did you even know to bring this?"

Mycroft gave Black a little enigmatic smile before he said, "I'm glad everyone was wrong about you being insane."

Black made noncommittal noise and said, "You have your secrets and I have mine, I suppose."

"One that you will be telling me in time," said Mycroft, giving Black a significant look.

Black tapped his fingers on the table a few times – Mycroft counted eight and suppressed a smirk, Black was a quick learner – and said, "If you are around long enough, you'll be able to see it."

Black didn't have to fake the shiver that went through him.

"Hmm," said Mycroft, not committing one way or the other.

Mycroft stood up from the table, went to the door and knocked. He waited until the door was opened before he said, "You've been very helpful, Mister Black."

"Mysterious Man," said Black with an incline of his head in his direction. Mycroft never did introduce himself.

Mycroft nodded his head once before he left the room and Black was escorted back to his cell.

* * *

Hogwarts; same time

After being informed by one of the portraits in his office where his deputy headmistress was, Dumbledore headed to Minerva's office to inform her that she was needed and why.

Dumbledore knew Minerva long enough to know that she wouldn't be pleased with this news either way and it would be best to inform her in her own office where she was more comfortable.

He arrived at her door and knocked.

"Enter," said Minerva, the door opening simultaneously for her visitor.

Minerva looked up from her lesson planning, took one look at Dumbledore standing in her doorway, stood up from behind her desk and said, "Albus? What has happened?"

He told her what he found out when he returned to his office and that he and Severus planned to leave to check out Privet Drive.

"I would like for you to accompany us as well, Minerva," said Dumbledore.

Minerva was silent as she watched Dumbledore before she said, "Oh, Albus. What have you done? I told you those Muggles were not the place to leave the boy!"

"Let's not jump to conclusions, my dear Minerva. We do not know that the Muggles did anything," said Dumbledore calmly.

Minerva said something under her breath that Dumbledore couldn't hear.

"We leave in an hour," said Dumbledore simply, choosing to ignore what Minerva might have said about himself, the Muggles or both.

He knew that Petunia, and thus the Dursley's house, was Harry's best chance at surviving the Death Eaters.

Dumbledore ignored the niggling voice in the back of his head that said it wasn't all he was doing by leaving Harry with Muggles he knew would have a problem with a magical child due to jealousy and a want of living a normal life.

It _needed_ to be done for Tom to be gone forever, however. Everyone would understand in the end. Even Harry.

"I'll be ready," said Minerva firmly. She couldn't trust Severus to be objective when it came to James' son, despite Harry also being Lily's, and this situation was Dumbledore's to begin with. Honestly.

"We will meet you in the Entrance Hall," said Dumbledore and she nodded once.

Dumbledore then left Minerva's office to prepare, just as his two professors.

Exactly an hour later, the three professors met in the Entrance Hall of their school with a nod at each other and then started the long walk down the grounds, past the gates and finally the wards before each of them disappeared with a sharp _Crack!_

* * *

Azkaban – Outside Interrogation Room

"Did you get everything you came for, Mister Holmes?" asked Madam Bones with Dawlish at her side.

"It certainly was enlightening," said Mycroft as he watched Black be roughly escorted back to his prison cell.

Madam Bones stared at him suspiciously for a moment before she asked, "Is there anything else The Ministry can do for you today, Mister Holmes?"

"Besides getting me back to my vehicle?" asked Mycroft mildly.

"I thought your associate took your motorized broom?" asked Dawlish, eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

"She's efficient enough not to leave her boss stranded," said Mycroft, his own eyebrow raised challengingly, not bothering to correct the misconception that a _car_ wasn't even close to a resemblance of a _broom_.

Dawlish's eyebrows furrowed as he worked out what Mycroft said as Madam Bones sighed and said, "Of course, we will get you back to your _car_ ," she stressed the word out enough for her associate.

"There is nothing else that I need _your_ assistance with," said Mycroft, smiling pleasantly.

Madam Bones looked like she just wanted her encounter with Mister Holmes to be done with though she was suspicious of his wording – as she should be – and said, "Of course, Mister Holmes. Dawlish will be happy to take you across again. Good day, Mister Holmes." She turned to Dawlish, "I'll see you back in the office."

"Ma'am," said Dawlish, with a nod in her direction, as he directed Mycroft back the way they came in and Madam Bones went another way.

* * *

Azkaban Cell – Sirius Black

Sirius Black stood with his back to the door of his cell, staring at the potion bottle in his hand – like he had been doing for the past thirty minutes since he was escorted back.

He couldn't believe that he had a Muscle Strengthening Potion – something he would need to swim to shore in whatever shape he chose to take, though his Animagus form would make the swim easier. Hell, the Potion itself would make the swim easier than what it would have been had Sirius attempted escape before though there was a downside to this particular potion…

It would only last for half hour – forty-five minutes if the potion maker was particularly talented – after taking it before you were worst off than you were before taking the potion. He didn't want to be swimming when the potion wore off, that was for sure so the timing would be everything and he had less than seven and a half hours to make sure his plan was as foolproof as he could...

Well more foolproof other than take potion, change into Padfoot and slip out when they bring dinner.

Too bad he was being interrogated during lunch – this potion always worked better when there was some food to help.

Sirius settled on the floor.

He would do anything for Harry though. This was just the first step.

Sirius was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: I hope everyone has a Happy New Year and enjoys the new Sherlock tomorrow. I'll see you in about a week with another chapter! :-)


	21. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Background: See prologue chapter.
> 
> A/N: See prologue chapter.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments, kudos and subscriptions! <3

Chapter 18

Privet Drive – Anthea

It was late in the day when several nondescript cars arrived on the street causing everyone outside to stop what they were doing and watch their progress. The cars stopped, aligning themselves on the side of the road, coincidentally in front of Number 4, and several people got out of the car, gathering around the first car.

"What did the Dursleys do?" asked the neighbor from Number 7 to the neighbor who lived right next door to the Dursleys.

"It probably has to do with their good-for-nothing nephew," said the neighbor.

"A five-year-old child? Involved with the government?" asked another neighbor, disbelievingly.

The next door neighbor snorted and said, "Bad blood, according to Petunia."

"It's _her_ nephew, though, isn't it?" asked the neighbor from Number 7.

"She must have been the exception," said the next door neighbor.

They all fell silent at that, thinking, watching as several of the government people surrounded Number 4 and entered the house while several others headed in their direction.

"What's happening?" asked the next door neighbor as soon as the government agents were within earshot. "What did the Dursleys' nephew do?"

The woman who was in the lead raised an eyebrow while she ignored the question to ask her own to the woman, "Are you Mrs. Gideon from Number 3?"

"Yes. Who are you?" asked Mrs. Gideon, narrowing her eyes at the brush off. Of all the rude things…

"Jill," said the woman simply, which none of the neighbors thought was her actual name. She consulted her phone that was in her hand before she turned to another pair of the neighbors and asked, "And are you, Mr. and Mrs. Spencer of Number 5?"

The neighbors got the feeling that the woman they now knew as Jill was already aware of who they were, but the pair nodded their agreement.

The woman nodded her agreement and said, "All of you are residents of this street, correct?"

Everyone nodded their agreement.

Jill smiled and said, "Is anyone still in their house or is this everyone?"

Everyone looked around, confirming whether or not everyone was out before Mrs. Gideon said, "This is everyone on our street except the children and the Dursley family. What's this about?"

Jill made a note on her phone that she still had out and said, "How well do your children listen to you?"

"I beg your pardon?" asked several of the families that had children.

"If you asked them to do something, would they do it?" asked Jill.

"Of course!" said the parents at once.

"Hmm," said Jill before she continued, "You better hope so or else you could face jail time."

Several people paled at that statement.

"We are law-abiding citizens!" said Mrs. Gideon at once. "I've done no crime!"

"I have committed no crime either," said Mr. Spencer.

"We are hoping it stays that way as well," said Jill.

"Are you blackmailing us," asked the neighbor from Number 7.

Jill smiled again, and it wasn't a nice smile, as she said, "Of course not. The government never blackmails anyone. We _encourage_ compliance."

"I haven't seen any identification," said Mr. Gideon, holding his wife's arm to silence her.

"You don't have the clearance to see my identification," said Jill simply.

Several more people paled at the implication.

"Now as for what this is about, Mrs. Gideon, it is simple. Should anyone come ask you about the whereabouts of the Dursley family, all you have to do is say that they moved several months ago and you haven't seen them since," explained Jill.

"Why would we do that?" asked the man from Number 11.

Jill looked at the man for a moment before she looked at the agent standing beside her.

"Jack?"

A gloved man held up a laptop and Jill said to the man, "Mr. Anderson?" The man from Number 11 nodded his confirmation that it was him. "Is this your computer?"

"What? No, it is not," said Mr. Anderson.

"I think you will find that your fingerprints and personal information are stored on it along with condemning information."

"It's not mine," insisted Mr. Anderson.

"When was the last time you've seen the Dursley family, Mr. Anderson," asked Jill as if she didn't hear Mr. Anderson's denials.

Mr. Anderson was silent for several seconds before he said, grudgingly, "Several months ago, when they moved."

Jill gave a slight smiled and said, "More convincing next time, Mr. Anderson."

Mr. Anderson nodded his agreement and the agent known as Jack resumed his position beside Jill silently, still holding the laptop for the neighbors to see.

"Does anyone else have any questions?" asked Jill sounding pleasant.

All the neighbors shook their heads, eyeing the laptop still in Jack's hands like one would a snake about to strike.

"I hope you get along with the Deans. They've bought Number 4 and have moved in three weeks ago," explained Jill.

The neighbors silently acknowledged the information the government agent gave them as they watched her nod at them. Then, Jill and Jack - finally putting away the laptop - walked away from them.

Just as Jill and Jack got close to Number 4, agents suddenly started to come out of the Dursley house and a moving van pulled up. Jill nodded once to Jack, who acknowledged the order with his own nod, and he headed towards the opposite end of the street as a lookout.

Jill, also known as Anthea, walked up to the lead agent coming out of the Dursley house.

"Did you find it?" asked Anthea at once.

The agent held up the baby blanket and passed it to Anthea while saying, "It was exactly where you said it was."

Anthea nodded, not expecting any different.

The agent shook his head and said, "I can't believe those people stuck a child in a cupboard under the stairs. There were two extra bedrooms, one presumably for guests and another full of broken toys."

Anthea made a note on her phone for her boss so she could bring it up when he went to visit Mr. Dursley in the hospital.

"Was there any sighting of a Mrs. Arabella Figg on Privet Drive?" asked Anthea, looking up from her notation.

The agent shook his head and said, "Not from any of my men."

Anthea nodded her head and said, "It's like we discussed in the car, she likely doesn't keep too close a watch on what happens here, not wanting the Dursleys to become too suspicious of her."

The agent nodded his head in agreement and said, "Do you think we will have any problems with not confronting Mrs. Figg?"

Anthea shook her head and said, "No. Not with the whole street backing up the claim that the Dursleys moved months ago. She probably missed things before and this will create more doubt on her reliability."

The agent nodded his head slowly. It sounded like a sound plan as it then forced the people looking for the Dursley family to seek out their boss as he is the only one who would have the information.

Anthea looked up and down the street and said, "Let's continue moving the Dursley's out and moving in the new family to Number 4. We don't know how much time we have left. Jack is on the lookout for Mrs. Figg but that doesn't mean we should just rely on one set of eyes. Make sure everyone is always on the lookout for Mrs. Figg."

"Yes, ma'am," said the agent with a nod and he went back to direct the men and women under his command.

Anthea watched them while occasionally checking her phone and sending out messages.

Finally twenty minutes later, with no sign of Mrs. Figg, they were done and the Dean family – consisting of a middle-aged husband, wife and two grown up sons attending university – were completely moved in.

Anthea nodded at the family in the doorway of the house before they went inside. Anthea looked over at the neighbors who were still watching what was happening at Number 4. She raised an eyebrow in their direction and they scattered, muttering under their breath, and went back inside their houses.

Anthea nodded to herself, satisfied, as she – and everyone else – got into the cars, the baby blanket on her lap.

"We're ready. Head back to the office, Fredrick," said Anthea to the driver.

"Yes, ma'am," said Fredrick.

They left Privet Drive and just as the last of the car turned the corner, three people suddenly appeared on the empty street.

* * *

Outside of Azkaban – Mycroft's car

Mycroft checked his watch as he sat in the back seat of his car that his assistant was kind enough to replace as she took the one they came out in. It was nearly dinner time and he suspected his assistant would be back at the office momentarily, Operation Indigo being completed to perfection as it was a relatively simple operation.

As for what he was waiting on, Mycroft was anxious to see if Mister Black could accomplish it. The prison was supposed to be inescapable and the liquid in the bottle was just a simple Muscle Strengthening Potion according to his source – the rest of the escape would be up to Mister Black and Mycroft was looking forward to seeing how it was accomplished in the next few hours.

Luckily his assistant was kind enough to send some paperwork with the car when she sent the replacement one so Mycroft settled down in his seat and went to work.

A few hours later, Mycroft heard a whining sound that was similar to that of a dog. Mycroft ignored it, thinking it was a stray.

A few minutes later there was another whining sound accompanied by a bark causing Mycroft to look up, involuntarily, and out the window.

There was a massive black dog, with dirty fur and haunted eyes, which didn't make sense on a dog – how could a dog be haunted? – in the brush by the side of the road.

But then, Mycroft suddenly understood.

That was Sirius Black – the eyes gave him away. They were haunted in the same way.

Though the smug look that crossed the dog's face briefly as it's eyes meet Mycroft's were also a giveaway.

Mycroft was impressed despite himself.

"Get that dog inside the car," Mycroft told his driver as he moved to put his paperwork away.

"Yes, sir," said the driver, going outside to pick up the dog and put him in the back with his boss.

The dog looked at Mycroft once more with a look of smugness - which Mycroft is very used to seeing on Sherlock's face – before he passed out.

His informant who gave him the bottle said that the potion contained inside would only last thirty minutes after the recipient took it before they crashed hard so Mycroft wasn't particularly worried about his physical health – at least as far as the passing out was concerned.

Mister Black still had quite a few things to accomplish - medically speaking - before he would be ready for what Mycroft had planned for him.

"Let's go back to the office," said Mycroft once the driver was back in the car.

"Yes, sir," said the driver.

Mycroft spent the entire drive watching the dog as he slept.

* * *

Privet Drive - Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall

"Well that was surprisingly unhelpful," said Professor Snape after they interviewed the last of the neighbors on the street.

They had done the interviews after they found the house that had had the wards, Number 4, occupied with a family claiming they've been there for three months, the previous owners apparently having moved out months ago.

The story was confirmed by every neighbor, including the children.

Either the wards malfunctioned months before or someone was trying to give them the runaround and Professor Snape absolutely hated that as much as he hated dunderheads in his Potions classroom.

Dumbledore nodded his head and said, "There is one more avenue left to us. Let's see what Arabella has to say before I go to extreme measures."

"Extreme measures?" asked McGonagall lips pursed.

Dumbledore absentmindedly nodded his head as he headed in the direction of Wisteria Walk.

"What extreme measures?" asked Professor Snape as he kept pace with his colleagues.

"By going to the one person in the Muggle government who I swore I would never ask for help from again," said Dumbledore, gravely.

"The Queen?" asked McGonagall, sounding unconvinced. It didn't sound like extreme measures to her.

Dumbledore shook his head and said, "Mycroft Holmes."

Professor Snape felt dread fill his stomach as McGonagall's lips pursed even further. He just knew there was a reason why he didn't want to have deal with Potter this early before his school career – if this was the kind of mess he was going to cause…

They continued on their way to Arabella Figg's house.


End file.
